Ace of Hearts
by Racetrack's Goil
Summary: My summer mostly consisted of sending hate waves towards Spot and trying to get through life as a Brooklynite. Think it sounds like fun? Yeah, well, think twice. COMPLETE! Sequel UP and RUNNING!
1. The Stranger With The Stormy Eyes

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

_**Author's Note:**_ Hey hey all! This story's been fading into the Newsie fanfiction background, which somewhat makes me sad. But recently I've gotten new readers who somehow find it, and their reviews has inspired me to re-write the entire thing. I've re-written this chapter for the third time...because, well, it sucked. Also, I think I'll be giving this a nudge or two so that new readers can find it and read it as well. At anyrate, I'll be re-writing the entire story. Blah, it's so embarassing to read it, especially the first few chapters!! Horrible dialogue, and Ace is such a bland character, and Spot so two-dimensional! But I guess that's a good thing in a way, because I think it means that I have improved. Yeah, fanfiction isn't good for originality, but it does allow you to improve your writing, and develop a writing style. Doncha think?

As you all may know, this story used to have a Casting Call, but was deleted because of it. But my readers have kindly allowed me to still use the characters, so I'd just like to say that every character except for Ace, Fire, Trek, Lil, and Swiper are not mine. I'll probably add more of my own characters so I'll probably be having a longer disclaimer soon.

**Disclaimer:** Ace, Fire, Trek, Lil, Swiper, Philip, Duke…mine. Everyone else…not mine. Belongs to Disney or to fanfiction members.

**To New Readers:** Hey!!! Come and join the ride; we've got cute plushies and happy Spot souveniers. Ace is not a Mary-Sue; she is a sadly flawed character with faults that make me sad. And Spot is not a nice person in this, although we all agree that he is perfect in his nastyness. Check out my profile for the pictures of her and other characters, and also for a video I made. There's a sequel up as well, so make sure you move onto that after this one. Tell me what you think; impressions, suggestions, criticisms, advice...anything! Every single review I have got has inspired me to write more, and I think the best way for any author to improve is to simply **_WRITE MORE_**. Therefore, see, reviews improvement.

**Special thanks to pmochizuki and Elly, for all the support, advice, and suggestions they've given me throughout the making of this story.

* * *

**If you've never been to an orphanage, you wouldn't know just how horrible it is. Yeah, you _hear_ about how awful it is, but it really is worse from the inside. The kids are rotten, the rules painfully strict, and punishments are dealt out daily. Not only that, but the food tastes horrible, which is a major drawback for me. And you have to these stupid lessons about…well, just about everything from food to hair. How you sit, how you talk, how you act…and it wasn't even one of those ladies' schools you hear about and shudder at.

It doesn't help also, when the mistresses dislike you because you have a tendency to break everything in sight (NOT my fault) or because you're sarcastic (well…kinda my fault) or you seem to deliberately annoy them…(alright…whatever). My point is, orphanages ought to be banned. Or at least there should be some kind of law about how strict they can be.

And that's not gonna happen in a gazillion years.

So that's why I'm climbing ever so inconspicuously down my window in the middle of night, using the ivy that grew on the sides of the dull, grey-colored building: the second orphanage I had been in so far. The first orphanage I broke out of when I was fourteen, having stayed there from the age of ten. This second one I was caught in about a year and a half ago, when I was sixteen. This orphanage was the worst of them both.

You know how easily kids run away in books and such? It really doesn't work out that way. For example, at this moment my arms were feeling like they were going to peel out of my sockets. I'm terrified of heights, so I'm desperately staring at the vines, and that doesn't help either, because I now find myself gawking at a nasty-looking bug that's about to crawl over my hand. I hastily continued my way, hoping to death the vines wouldn't suddenly rip off the building, though a part of my mind told it wouldn't; I was too skinny and it was firmly rooted.

I suppose I should explain. I had been planning this escape for a week or so and, I must say, I am rather evilly brilliant. Yeah, I really am.

First of all, let me boast about our incredible head mistress. She's gaunt-faced, tall, and has arms skinnier than mine. Say hello to Mrs. Wilkins. She's obsessed with making our lives miserable. On top of it all, she has to be smart. Her room is right near the door and she has the sharpest ears I have ever known. Seriously. Her window is always open and her bed is right near it. One boy tried to escape and returned in an hour. She had caught him in two minutes and the rest of the fifty-eight minutes were spent on a lecture about what happens to 'ungrateful little wretches who try to sneak away.' The boy was forbidden any food for the whole day.

That had been her third catch of the week.

Anyway, a few days ago, I saw a letter written by her to a friend by the name of Hudson. It was replied and I managed to take a look at it. This Hudson character told her that her aunt was ill, but it was nothing serious.

Well, I made it serious. Copying Hudson's handwriting and address, I wrote a hoax letter, telling that the aunt had fallen 'critically sick' and that Mrs. Wilkins had to return back to her home in New Jersey.

Yeah, shame on me. But it served her right. Now I was on my wonderful way to freedom.

At that moment, my foot slipped and I nearly shrieked aloud. Thankfully, I was already near the ground and I landed clumsily but safely in an undignified sprawl. Since I couldn't climb down with my bag of belongings with me, I had tied a very long twine to it. I yanked it now and my sack went tumbling over the window sill. It landed snugly in my waiting arms and I ripped the twin away before slinging my sack over my back. For a brief moment I couldn't believe I did it. I turned and stared at the hated orphanage, gazing at its black outline in the night. I silently raised a fist in triumph and did a little dance of glee, right there on the street. Then I ran as quietly and as quickly as I could away.

A hysterical urge to laugh aloud bubbled over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, but a little giggle of sheer joy at being free escaped me. I quickly swallowed it down and kept running. Things were going perfectly, no way was I going to ruin it now with laughing like a raving lunatic escaping from an asylum. Hehe.

I slowed my pace a little as I rounded the corner of the street. I grabbed my hat from my sack (they didn't let me wear it inside), gathered my dark hair together, and stuffed it underneath my hat. As I did, I thought over my situation while my heart pounded with excitement. I sobered down quickly enough when I forced myself to face the facts.

Okay, I escaped. All I had with me was these clothes, my hat, an old spare cloak in my bag, some food, and a few coins. If I didn't find a job soon, I'd starve and starving was never an option for me. But jobs…they were always the problem. People don't want girls to work for them, which really was annoying. I mean, we could work just as well as guys could! I _could_ fool them, but only for a short time. I'd end up back on the streets and would meander around, trying to find yet another job. And it'd start over again.

I'm optimistic like that.

I sank down in an abandoned alley and drew out my money from my pocket. I fingered the coins. I only had enough money to eat for a couple of cheap meals. I returned it back to my pocket and then fished out the old cloak before wrapping it around me.

Nothing could be done tonight. I seriously doubted the mistresses at the orphanage would organize a search party for me. They never liked me anyway and, except for Wilkins, they were probably glad I had escaped. I smiled to myself, remembering the many times they tried to make me learn all the boring manners a proper 'lady' should have. Dullness galore, really.

I knew I needed to be up early tomorrow for a long and possibly futile search. So it was probably smart to get some rest while I could. The alley was an uncomfortable place to sleep in, but it was more or less dry, if not clean. Arranging my sack into a makeshift pillow, I curled up and fell asleep a lot faster than I expected.

* * *

The next day was bathed with sunlight. I winced and groaned, before sitting up dazedly. I felt my bones protest. Well, bones, suck it up. I very well couldn't bring my bed along with me, could I? I stretched and blinked at the bright light streaming into my alley. I reached for my bag and fished out the loaf of bread.

I felt a little more hopeful as I sat there, eating and watching some people pass by my alley. Surely _some _kind of small job could be found. I stood up, feeling my knee crack as I did so. I held my hat with my teeth as I reached back, twisted my hair up against my head, and then settled the hat firmly over. Making sure that any strands of hair had not escaped; I straightened and slung my bag over my shoulder before stepping out into the street.

It was quite crowded today. People were selling food, buying newspapers, and were basically bustling around and getting in each other's way. I managed to stay out of the most of the crowd and most people ignored the short, scrawny kid weaving past them. My face was by no means very feminine and I knew that as long as they did not look at me too long, I could fool them into thinking I was a boy.

I soon got out the majority of the crowd and stopped to take a look into a store window. A book store, I realized. I was not an avid reader, but I liked books to a certain extent. I was about to enter when I was nearly bowled over by a few rough guys who pushed past me. Caught off guard, I stumbled directly into the arms of one of their companions, who had been following them closely from behind. He swore and kept moving forward, while I desperately moved backwards.

It was _awful_.

"Out of da way, kid!" he snarled finally, practically throwing me down to one side near a food vendor before continuing after his friends. I hit the ground hard on my rear and then scrambled up, my face burning. I glared at their backs darkly and my mouth opened instinctively to shout at them, but just in time, I stopped myself and I snapped my mouth shut.

These were newsies and not only newsies, they were _Brooklyn _newsies. I only knew a little about them, but I knew enough to know that they don't take kindly to insults. I also knew they all had horrible tempers. And from what I heard, their leader was even worse. I didn't want trouble.

I exhaled sharply, my former good spirits gone, and shouldered my bag again. These newsies were rough, tough, rude, and annoying. My few encounters with them were never very good. But at least I hadn't knocked over the vendor. _That _would have been disastrous.

I was about to continue on my way, completely forgetting about the bookstore. I had barely taken a few steps when I felt someone grab the back of my collar and yank me backwards. I choked and then yelled, twisting to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was holding me.

It was a large man, someone I had never seen before. He looked like one of the people who sold at food vendors. Sure enough, he let go of my collar after he had dragged me back to the vendor that newsie had thrown me next to.

"Alrigh', ya little rat. Give da food back," he snapped, looking furious. I stared at him blankly.

"The what?"

"The apples! I know you have them!"

"Apples?" I repeated confusedly. What was going on?

"You stole them apples!"

"…Stole?"

"Stop repeatin' my words!"

I blinked stupidly, utterly at loss of what was happening. My eyes wandered around the street in a hopeless effort to seek help. My eyes caught a tall boy around my age, his arms folded across his broad chest, leaning against the wall of a store. I recognized him instantly as the Brooklynite who had pushed me down. He was looking right at me with dark eyes, smirking.

Did he have anything to do with this?

"Well?"

I turned back to the man who shook me roughly. "I-I-…," I trailed off and ended up simply shaking my head in denial. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the boy produce an apple and take a huge bite out of it. I glared at him and, with another smirk and a nod, he disappeared into the crowd.

Meanwhile, the large man had grabbed my bag and was beginning to empty it onto the street, still holding my arm so I couldn't get away. I shrieked in alarm and tried to stop him, but received a sharp slap for my troubles. Bread fell onto the dirty pavement, my old cloak landed softly above it, and a dirty wad of cloth followed. The cloth opened to reveal my few coins. The large man glared at me as he saw it and then shook out my sack again.

An apple innocently rolled out. I couldn't believe it. I nursed my cheek and looked at him, unable to decide whether to beg and yell.

"Look, I didn't-"

"Yeah, yeah. Where's da rest!"

"Listen, I didn't steal your precious apples! I don't know how those got in here!" I said desperately as my other arm scooped up my cloak before it got any dirtier. I picked up my money as well, my mind working at a furious pace.

The situation was obvious. Somehow, that boy must have stolen the apples and then, either out of cruelty or a strange sense of humor, had made sure I would fill his place as the culprit. In that short scuffle, and if he was good enough (which I was sure he probably was), he could have easily found a way to put one apple in my sack. Nice.

The large man gave me another glare before snatching the money out of my hands.

"Hey!"

He tucked the wad of cloth into his pocket. "Dis should be enough," he said before releasing me with a rough push. I stumbled a few steps again and then stopped, staring at him. "But I didn't-"

"Get outta here!"

I gritted my teeth before grabbing my sack from his hand. Stuffing my cloak and the bread inside, I turned and stormed away, swearing under my breath.

Just wait till I found that boy. He was gonna pay. I don't know how, but he was going to pay.

I was in high bad temper. I kicked at harmless rocks, glared at passing people, and snarled at every newsie that passed by. They didn't notice though. I spent most of the morning entering shops and walking out of them. Things weren't looking too good. The only jobs I found were for 'experienced men' or 'for people who can take the responsibility.' Sure.

I walked out of a trinket store, frowning. It was nearly noon and it was hotter than ever. I reached into my bag for my bread and examined it. I sighed. Mud was practically caking on the surface. I wasn't _that_ hungry yet. I sighed and threw it forcibly away. I'd go without lunch today.

"Hey, runt! Thanks for da entertainment!"

I looked up sharply to see the _newsie_. He was leaning against a tree in the same position as I had seen him before; his arms crossed, a smirk on his lips, and his eyes laughing at me and my distress.

"You!" I growled, throwing down my sack and walking right up to him. He was nearly full two heads taller than me. His smirk didn't disappear and he looked down at me, sneering.

"Yeah?" he drawled, leaning his face in close. I didn't flinch, though his breath stank.

"You conceited…selfish…stupid…excuse of a buffoon-," I was spouting every insult I knew when something crashed against my face, sending me flying backward to land heavily onto the ground. I groaned and the face of boy came into view, angry and glaring. I felt something wet trickle down the side of my mouth and touched it. My finger came away with blood. I stared, rather horrified.

He hit me. The newsie just backhanded me right in the face. I was officially mad.

"No talks to me like dat, ya bum," the boy said heatedly, clenching his fists and looking like he was about to swing again.

"Hey, I can call you anythin' I want," I hissed furiously, clenching my own fists.

He sneered again at me. "Loud-mouthed, ain't we?" His eyes traveled to the sack on the ground and he looked at me again. "Whaddaya have in dat sack of yours?"

"You aren't going to have it anyway," I shot back, taking a step backwards and grabbing it. I had lost my money, no way was I about to lose my cloak. It was something I had ever since I was small, after my brother had died. I wasn't about to give it up.

"As if you can stop me, ya little bum?" he snickered, taking a step closer. I smirked at him, sneering back.

"There you go, bum again. Honestly, you've really got a small vocabulary. To match your brain, hmm?"

Suddenly, he grabbed my sack and pulled it right out of my hands. Shrieking, I tried to snatch it back, but he held it just out of my reach. I saw his puzzlement at my shriek, which had sounded extremely feminine.

"Give. It. Back," I said as coldly as I could. It worked, for his attention was drawn from my shriek a few moments ago. It was then his turn to smirk as he lowered my sack a little.

"Why? Can't ya reach it? Or are ya too short?" He laughed, pushing me back with his other arm as I lunged for my sack.

The thin control I had over my temper broke. I gritted my teeth, drew back my fist, and punched him in the face. He wasn't expecting that and although he didn't stagger backwards or collapse right on the street, he stared at me and one arm automatically went to his jaw. Before he could recover, I reached for the sack and wrenched it out of his grasp.

He muttered something inaudible under this breath and then looked at me with murderous things in his eyes. I took a step back warily, wincing a little at the pain in my knuckles. He took a step towards me and I got ready to duck. I suppose I should have run, but my pride wouldn't let me. I was too angry…and perhaps a little stupid.

"You're gonna pay for dat!" He swung wildly, aiming for my head. I dodged, avoiding the blow. His other arm moved in quickly towards the other side of my face, but I managed to avoid that as well by ducking under his arm. My breathing was becoming faster already, and I knew I couldn't keep this up. I forced my mind to start working, but nothing came up.

Okay, maybe this was more than just a little stupid.

I was about to tell myself that I didn't give a rip about my pride, and to run, run, run as fast as I could, but before I knew it, he changed his tactics and grabbed my wrist with one, strong hand. I gawked at him in alarm and tried pulling away, but he ignored my yelling and soon had me in an awkward position with my captive arm twisted behind my back.

"Not so tough now, eh?" he snarled, pushing his weight forward nastily. "Dis is what ya get for messin' with me!"

"_You're _the one who-," I started heatedly, but lancing pains shot up my arm and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut. I tried ineffectively to break free. Panic filled me then, as he increased his pressure on my arm twisted harder. My breath wooshed out ridiculously and I kicked backward, aiming for his shins. I might as well have kicked a tree trunk. I felt sweat trickle down my forehead as I gritted my teeth. My arm felt like it was going to rip out from my shoulder, and I wondered whether he was going to break it.

This was _absurd. _

Then came a voice, eerily quiet and calm, "Dat's enough."

My arm was suddenly and immediately released, and I nearly cried out with relief. It hung limp and useless at my side. I looked at it, blinking back tears of pain, and then straightened. I turned on my bully, and shoved him hard with my other arm, supremely _furious_. He was staring at something past me, but I didn't notice as I yelled things at him. He still did not respond, his mouth slightly open as he stared past my shoulder. I shoved at him futilely again, really, truly angry. "You jerk! You could have broken my arm! You nasty, sick, sadistic-"

"I said, dat's _enough_."

That voice again. I turned and stared. It belonged to an older boy of medium height, with a gray cabby hat on his head and a gold-topped cane in his hand. He stood before us with a relaxed manner, but I unconsciously caught my breath as he met my gaze evenly.

Cold grey eyes, like winter, yet with a tinge of light blue. Beautiful eyes, like clashing waves in the middle of the fiercest storm, but somehow _dangerous_. There was a ruthlessness to them that made me shiver. His lips suddenly curved upwards into a smirk and I tried not to blush as I realized that I had been caught staring. Then he saw the darkening bruise on my opponent's jaw and his eyes narrowed as if in amusement. I rubbed my injured arm unconsciously, feeling oddly defensive. He looked at me again for a long moment, and then turned to the Jerk.

"Well, Fire, you've come to pickin' on kids half yoah height, eh?"

Ridiculously, I felt a flash of annoyance at the reference about my height. Sure, I was short and scrawny. He didn't have to mention it, did he? Then again, I couldn't argue with the boy who most probably saved me from getting beaten up. I swallowed and flicked a look at the Jerk…Fire, he said?

"Oh, Spot...eh...what are you doin' here?" Fire mumbled, giving me a burning glare while avoiding the other boy's blue-grey gaze.

Spot? What kind of a name is that?

"'Cos if you are," continued the boy with the dangerous eyes, "After what I said to you yesterday, you're in big trouble." He spoke simply, as though he was talking about the weather, but the threat in those words held more meaning than if he had said more.

"I-I wasn't pickin' on 'im," Fire finally stammered, his face turning red. _Liar. _Spot, whoever he was, obviously saw straight through it, because those eyes flashed once.

"Yeah? Well, let's ask him. What do dey call you?" replied Spot, turning to me. I glanced at Fire, whose face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Ace. Who are you?" I asked bluntly. He looked at me (again) and ignored the question.

"'k, Ace, so what happen'd?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "He was bein' a real jerk."

He gave me a long stare, but I saw his lips press together, as if on the verge of laughter. At me? Wait, a second, _who _was he? And what was he doing, ordering me around and acting like he was suddenly in charge of everything? And _laughing _at me. I gave a sharp, impatient sigh and quickly explained what had happened without trying to sound like a whiny little tattle-tale, but it was hard when Spot was looking at me with that scrutinizing look and with Fire glaring daggers at me.

"But it's no big deal," I finished finally. It was true, anyhow. Somehow I was feeling mildly sorry for Fire, who was growing more and more red in the face with each passing minute. Am I strange to feel this way? But somehow I did, and although I was still angry, I didn't like the thought of being indebted to a stranger for help. I coughed nervously and Spot raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm."

He snorted.

"Yeah, and what's dat big ol' shiner doing on his face, den?" he said, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards again. "Looks pretty serious to me."

Fire opened his mouth and then fell silent. He stared at the ground, his lips tightly pressed together and his face suddenly red with contained anger. He was looking at me with the corner of his eye. I tugged at my hat and wondered what to say.

"Well, yeah," I finally said lamely.

Spot then slowly smiled at us both and started fiddling with the top of that cane.

"Well, fights startin' all over Brooklyn ain't quite an unusual thing, but I won't be havin' dem involving one of my boys," Spot said. Then his smile vanished and his eyes hardened. "I don't want any of dis again, Fire, do ya hear?"

Fire didn't answer.

"I said," repeated Spot in a voice like stone, "Do ya hear me?"

"Yeah," mumbled Fire, his eyes flickering at me again. I uncomfortably shifted, feeling the hatred within that gaze. This was awful.

"And don't ever try to lie to me again, da both of ya," finished Spot, giving both me and Fire another Look. I wanted to protest, but I decided Spot wasn't quite the listening type. So I tugged at my hat and said, "Fine."

He looked at me and for a second, I swore he was laughing at me again, but the humor was gone when he turned back to the silent, obviously furious boy next to me.

"Now, Fire, git out out of here. Ace, how 'bout a talk."

I smothered a groan. Fire shot me a glare full of hate and then left without a word. He disappeared around the corner of the street, leaving me alone with Spot.

We stood there on the street, looking at each other. I didn't know what to think. This stranger had appeared out of nowhere, saved me from a beating, and was now trying to…what? Talk to me? About what? This Spot unnerved me, with those arrogant eyes that seemed to see right through me. He threw orders around like he expected them to be obeyed, and I unintentionally felt all my rebelliousness at the orphanage return. But I stayed where I was, and waited for him to speak.

He didn't speak. He simply began to walk towards me with slow, confident strides, and I wondered peevishly whether he was trying to intimidate me. Because he _was _intimidating, I found to my dismay, as I struggled not to step back warily. He stopped before me; his eyes alight with vague interest. Although he was not as tall as Fire, he was taller than me by a good couple of inches, and I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.

"So, Ace, what brings ya t'Brooklyn?" Spot murmured in a suspiciously conversational manner. He sounded abnormally pleasant and friendly, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Lookin' for a job," I said cautiously, wondering what was going on behind that inscrutable gaze.

"Really now," he said in a curious tone that made me redden. I had to look away and in the silence that followed, felt again that he was somehow laughing at me.

This upset me. I did not like being laughed at, even from someone who had helped me out. I turned to him again, this stupid laughing stranger, and gave him my fiercest glare. "What is it?"

He seemed amused at my anger. "Fire is a blind fool," he said, almost to himself, and I blinked at the word 'blind'.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," he drawled, "I think you'd look a whole lot prettier with your hair down."

I stared at him, feeling a sudden surge of immsense _dislike_. I truly disliked him completely in that moment, loathing the way he said those words, in a smug, expectant tone, as if he expected me to blush or giggle. He seemed very sure of himself. It was as though because he knew that I was a girl, he thought it was okay for him to go around acting like that. Flinging compliments around and trying to see my reactions. Blah.

"Take off yer hat," he said, in that same aggravating tone. "Let's see what shade's your hair."

"I shall do no such thing," I said, hating him.

"Take. Off. Yer. Hat," he repeated, emphasizing each word while his smile shrank. I crossed my arms defiantly and felt annoyed. Was the world full of unintelligent males today? Sure, he helped me, but he certainly had no authority over me. No way. I wasn't about to follow orders from anyone, especially from stormy-eyed, arrogant boys.

So I said in what I thought was admirably composed: "Why should I?"

"Take it off."

"No," I snapped stubbornly, backing up a little. His eyes narrowed, and that was the only warning I got before he suddenly lunged for my hat. I leaped back in alarm farther from his reach. Unfortunately, he had reflexes I hadn't accounted for and he grabbed my weaker arm, taking advantage of the injury. This made me so mad that I pummeled him with my free arm. He simply used his other hand to snatch my hat off my head and then pushed me away, laughing. My hair tumbled down. I swore at him and he simply smirked back, tossing the hat from one hand to the other playfully.

"You just _had_ to do that, didn't you?" I snarled. I crossed my arms again. "It isn't _any_of your business, but you just had to do that. Couldn't let a girl alone, right?"

"It ismy business to know things, sweetheart," Spot remarked, throwing the hat back to me. I bristled at the name and angrily jammed my hat onto my head, not bothering this time to hide my hair. I shoved my hands into my pockets and sulked. He raised his eyebrows and I scowled back, loathing him. He looked me up and down, as though taking in this new me, and I frowned at him in a dark, ugly way.

"I'm Spot Conlon," he finally introduced himself, quite casually, as if he had decided I wasn't a girl worth turning on his charms for. Somehow I felt vaguely offended. I cast him a suspicious look. I had the unpleasant feeling that if I was prettier, curvier, or girly-er, he would have gone after me in a second. He was a heartbreaker alright. He was too attractive to not be, and his manner too arrogant to not know it. But since, I thought, I _wasn't _all those things, he did the most horrid thing. He spat in his hand and extended it for a shake. I stared disgustedly at the offered, contaminated hand and then up at him.

"And…what, I'm supposed to put my hand in yours?"

He gave a laugh, so sarcastic that I inwardly regretted my sharp words.

"Well, doll, you don't have to, but-."

His contemptuous tone made me flush right up to my hairline. I spat in my hand and took his quickly. His manner was enough for me to change my mind. If anything, I did not want to come across as conceited. I simply would not stand for that. He gave his slow smile again and I gritted my teeth, flushing.

"Nice to meet you," he said, his voice still sarcastic.

Wait. Wait a second.

Spot…I heard that name before. Spot Conlon.

I frowned. "Did you say you're Spot Conlon?"

He grinned charmingly, looking strangely pleased. "Heard of me?"

"No," I snapped shortly and then peered closely up at him, "No…but yes. I just can't remember."

He smiled mysteriously and absentmindedly played with the cane slung through his belt. Then suddenly, it came to me.

I had heard of him in Queens! The one they were talking about…that Brooklyn leader or something of the sort. He was the leader! I looked at him in a new light...and with grudging respect. From all the tales I had heard of him, he was the most feared newsie in all of New York. He had never lost a fight, with his moves that were said to be the slickest in the entire city. Everyone respected him and admired him, therefore he had authority and power.

Apparently, my face had been horribly open as usual and Spot must have read everything that crossed my mind, because he gave a somewhat mocking bow.

"What, ya didn't know who the king of Brooklyn was?"

"No, not really," I threw at him sharply, feeling annoyed again at his arrogance. King of Brooklyn? Where's your blasted crown then? I nearly said it aloud, but stopped myself just in time. My new knowledge of him being who he was had forced me to rethink my words and actions towards him a little before speaking or doing them. I had been correct to assume he was dangerous.

I hesitated for a second and then asked, "How'd you know I was a girl?"

"Your lips, really," Spot said unexpectedly, throwing out the remark with a carelessness that made me shift.

I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed. Was he flirting? Or was he serious? I strongly suspected the latter, since he was looking at me with that same expectancy I had seen before. Again, he was waiting for a reaction, for me to giggle or blush or swoon. I suppose other girls would have just gone flirting back, especially to someone as good-looking as Spot was, but if I tried that, I'd probably end up sounding like an idiot. So I took care to frown at him in a grave, ugly way. His mouth twitched and thankfully, he changed the subject.

"Fire's always makin' trouble dese days and pickin' on one kid or another…he give ya dat?" Spot indicated to my mouth. I winced and reached up to find it still bleeding a little. "How's your arm? Alright?"

"Yeah," I replied, sounding slightly muffled because I was wiping my mouth again.

"Why'd ya try to cover for 'im?" was his next question and I paused before answering.

"I didn't try to cover for him. I just didn't want to...well, I just wanted to get it over with, I mean, and he didn't do me any harm anyway. Just made my mouth bleed a little, and hurt my arm, that was all…," I realized I was rambling so I shut up. Spot grinned at that and shook his head as if he pitied me.

"Lissen, in Brooklyn, you gotta be on your toes. It's a tough neighborhood; you gotta be careful," then he added, with that twist to his lips that indicated humor, "Dere are guys who won't be as nice as me and come to your rescue."

"I know." And you're wasting my time, I added silently, glancing at the sky that indicated it was soon lunch. What about that job? I was growing hungry, and I still had no money. And I didn't want to spend anymore time with _him_. He was…aggravating. In every way. Just the way he _was_. He must be the most irritating boy I had ever met.

"Dat's good, 'cos Fire ain't gonna forgive you."

"_He's_ not going to forgive me?" I said hotly. "Huh, it should be the other way around!"

"He holds grudges."

"Oh, great," I sighed, rubbing my injured arm, "That's the last thing I want."

We kept walking, aimlessly, I thought, until he began again.

"You're lookin' for a job?"

"Yeah. But, for some brainless reason, they believe girls can't work."

"Dey can't."

"Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Dey're no good at workin'. Especially in Brooklyn."

"_Excuse me?" _I am not a feminist. I just think chauvinistic men are beasts.

"Don't take offense now; I'm jus' tellin' da truth."

I didn't answer because I was simmering. Then I said very, very coldly, "Thank you for the advice. I need to be going now."

"Aw, don't be angry."

I bit my lip to keep myself from retorting. He gave a rough snort of laughter, as if he heard my unspoken words and found it funny that I had kept silent. We walked on, but as I studied the buildings and stores on my right, I sensed him thinking. Thinking? And then he started looking me over again, as if he were in the middle of a decision.

Then he said: "Why don't you try your hand at sellin' papes?"

"Huh?" I blinked, quick on my feet as usual.

I could see he hated repeating himself, because I saw a trace of annoyance flash across his face. But it disappeared soon enough. "I said, why don't you try sellin' papes."

"You mean be a newsie?"

He gave me a flat look and drawled, "Yes."

"You mean with _you_? With Brooklyn?"

"You're lookin' for a job, righ'?"

"Yeah, but-,"

"We already got a couple of girl newsies. And I think you can handle the job."

I tried not to simper when I said, "But I thought you said girls can't work."

He definitely looked annoyed now. I don't think he liked having his words returned, just like he didn't like repeating them. "Alright," he said pityingly, "You don't have to join us. It was a plain, simple offer."

I realized then that I was being stupid. I was hesitating when the job I might have been looking for was offered to me, and by the leader of Brooklyn of all the people! I looked up and peered at him. Those grey-blue eyes that had caught my attention were colder than ever, but I sensed he was not making fun of me, or playing with my feelings. He was serious, and for once didn't seem to be laughing at me.

"Thanks," I said in reply, giving him a tentative smile.

He didn't smile back. "Changed your mind?" he sneered nastily.

I just nodded, accepting his unpleasantness. He looked at me and then shrugged carelessly, rubbing his mouth with his thumb in a casual manner. My eyes were unconsciously drawn to the spot and he played with his cane, twirling it deftly before tapping it in a decisive manner on the ground.

"Well, I'm sure you know where da distribution center is."

I nodded again, but uncertainly. I suppose I had to go there, but that place didn't look at all very friendly to me, what with those huge guys who looked like they could tear me apart with their bare hands. Not a very pleasant thought. But I knew they wouldn't. I mean, if Spot had offered the job, surely they wouldn't interfere.

"Be dere first thing in da mornin'," he said and with that, walked off briskly without another word. He made a somewhat unimposing figure in the distance, as I stared after him. I felt ill at ease, as I watched him go. Somehow, I had an unpleasant feeling that I had made a complete fool out of myself.

I stood there helplessly for a moment, feeling a strange sense of unreality. So, that was the famed Spot Conlon. I was amazed at my good luck. Or was it good luck? I could still see that face, with its deceptively boyish features, yet with eyes that held more arrogance than I had ever seen in one person. I did not like him, I decided rather sourly. I did not like him at all, him or his smug demeanor…but I did appreciate the fact that he had helped me out.

Actually, this Spot Conlon had helped me twice already.

I debated with myself whether it had been a good idea or not to have accepted Spot's offer. I'm not stupid; I know that being a newsie was tough. I have heard stories about how long they sometimes go without food, or how hard it was to make a profit. But I was sick of running around and looking for jobs which never seemed to last very long. Spot Conlon offered security, in a sense. As long as I stayed on his good side, I figured, I would probably be able to stay with the Brooklyn newsies for some time.

I smiled wryly to myself. That would probably be harder than I thought.

Brooklynites were tough and, from all the stories, rather nasty. Both Spot and Fire had definitely proved those stories to be true. But I had also heard that the newsies only welcomed those who were similar to them. Then how was it that Spot offered to take me in? I certainly didn't consider myself tough, and I could not fight to save my life. But then, surely it wasn't all about fighting? Brains over brawn? I was not altogether unintelligent, although I was in many cases ignorant.

I tightened my jaw. Even if the Brooklynites were all jerks or Fire-clones, and they all tried to kick me out, I'd stick to the job anyway. Whatever they might try to do would not faze me. And as for Fire, who I was sure to meet up with again…well, I would think of some way to solve the problem. Maybe we could restart, although I doubted it. I was still angry at him, and he surely hated me now. At least I knew I had Spot on my side.

Spot. Again, why did he allow me to join his newsies?

Did he like me?

Blah. He was probably just amused and had invited me on a whim.

Me. A whim. How horrid.

Me. A newsie.

I nearly laughed outloud. Who would have guessed? My brother would have had a fit. I could imagine it all now.

"_You what?"_

"_This guy came, saved me, and offered me to be a newsie. I accepted!"_

"_What were you thinking?!"_

"_Oh, shut up, you."_

This is sad. I tugged my cloak closer around myself and frowned. If only he hadn't died in that freak fight. He was my only brother, a perfect brother, though a little too overprotective. He had been knifed during a fight with some street rat, years and years ago. He died in front of my eyes, just like that. If he had survived, I would not be here. I would not have been in the orphanage, in the first place, because he wouldn't have allowed me to go.

I shoved my memories back and returned to my situation.

I was a newsie and a Brooklyn newsie at that. Trouble was sure to ensue, but I felt oddly excited. So _this_ was the next chapter of my life. I didn't know what to think of it. It was common knowledge (knowledge I heard from people who told it to me but didn't care) that being a newsie was one of the hardest jobs in New York. But it had its advantages: people to look out for you, and a routine that you got used to. I liked routines, as long as they weren't boring.

And I strongly doubted my life from here was going to be boring.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ Yep, wrote this again three times. I'm editing the entire story now. BLAH, it sucks. So, what do you think?

Racetrack's Goil


	2. One of Them

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

_**Author's Note:**_ Boring chapter for me to re-write. And I've taken out alot of the characters who came on the CC, as stated before. Well, before I re-wrote this. Artemis, Jackal, Pike, and Milkshake comes out though, so keep reading!

Disclaimer: Ace and Fire belong to me. Everyone else belongs to Disney or fanfiction dudes and dudettes.

Onto the chapter!

* * *

The next morning I woke up and felt like I could sleep on for a month. Last night I had continued my search for a job, a chore, something little to do…anything to get myself at least a little money for today, as I would need the money to buy newspapers. I had finally found one…and it was washing windows at an expensive looking house. At least it got me some dimes. But it was hard work.

I grimaced at my blistered fingers, but shook away my complaints. My fingers would probably be the last thing on my mind by the time the day was done…

The first thing I noticed as I neared the distribution center was the _noise_. Kids of every age were lining up to buy newspapers and were talking, arguing, or joking around. There must have been more than twenty of them. I looked for Spot, but didn't find him so I quickly walked up onto the ramp and to the end of the long line. A couple of boys nudged one another and stared at me as if I was some sort of intruder. That wasn't bad compared to the _way _some other boys were looking at me. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to ignore them. Ugh. Boys are disgusting creatures.

After realizing that I wasn't responding to their raising of eyebrows and smirks, they turned away to leave me alone. I was infinitely relieved.

As I waited, I studied the back of boy in front of me. In fact, that was about all I could see unless I tilted my head up. He must have been a little over six feet tall. I was absentmindedly musing to myself how much he reminded me of a pirate right from the storybooks with his dark skin and pony tailed hair, along with the scar on his cheek when I noticed that he was talking with someone in front of him. I couldn't help but listen.

"Spot will kick you out someday, you know," a girl's voice was saying, amusement laced in her clear, no-nonsense voice. I tried to see her, but the ramp we were on as narrow and I didn't want to seem rude by peering around the boy.

"Dat shorty? Kick _me_ out? Me? Listen, Arty, even if he's got an ego for someone thrice his size and what he calls authority, you'll have no worry of me being kicked out," he replied, grinning a rather devilish grin.

"Oh, I ain't worried. Not one bit. An' don't you call me Arty again. It's Ar-te-mis…ya bummer."

"I like Arty. Artemis is a whole mouthful of a name for a small girl like you."

"Watch who you're calling small, ya big goon; you know everyone's small compared to youse."

I was about to listen in more (yeah, bad me) when someone spoke up from behind.

"Hiya, angel. Ya new?"

I turned around to find myself face to face with a good-looking boy around my age. He was short for a guy, but who was I to talk about people being short? For a brief moment, I felt absurdly embarrassed by the guy's attention. He was standing too close for me to ignore the fact that he was _attractive_, with his slicked-back dark hair and chocolate eyes that were laughing at me in an amused way.

"Who's new?" A girl's voice demanded from behind the boy, and I realized that I had been staring. Whoever spoke tried to push past the boy, who rolled his eyes and let her go in front.

"Me," I spoke finally, just as the line started moving again. She stared at me through curious green eyes. I met her gaze evenly, feeling as though I was going through a test or something. Whatever it was, it was clear that I passed, because she abruptly stuck out her hand. I shifted my sack over to my other shoulder and accepted her offer of friendship.

"Milkshake," she simply said, in what seemed to be an introduction. She jerked a rough thumb at the boy who was watching, "Dis goon here-"

"Pike, at yoah service," He winked and his eyes sparkled with something akin to interest. "You've got a lovely smile, did ya know dat?" This time it was Milkshake who rolled her eyes and mumbled something like, "There he goes again," but then again, I wasn't too sure. Either way, I felt my cheeks burn. Pike, I thought somewhat disgustedly, was an outrageous flirt.

"I'm Ace," I coughed, and kept my gaze on Milkshake. She looked startled for a second, but an easy grin quickly spread across her face and she looked strangely gleeful.

"Ace? Da one Fire had a bit of a tussle with, aren't ya?"

I automatically drew back and gave her a suspicious look. "How do you know?"

Milkshake exchanged looks with Pike, and said, "Fire likes to make a big deal about something da size of his brain," she laughed and continued, "He was ravin' about a little brat named Ace. He went on and on about what he was gonna to do when he finds you."

But of course.

"I'd like to see that," I muttered, feeling truly angry. Fire had started the fight. Sure, maybe I made him look foolish. But honestly! I didn't know the guy! And how could he already forget what Spot had told him? Little as I had seen of the lithe, smooth-talking Brooklyn leader, I got the feeling he wasn't someone who'd repeat his orders.

"Da dimwit's got a temper, but nothin' else," Pike said with a pitying shake of his head. I found myself nodding, agreeing with him totally.

"Very true," Milkshake laughed and slapped me roughly on the back. "Don't ya worry. He ain't gonna harm ya."

I smiled half-heartedly, grateful for her support, but doubting whether it would be of any help.

"How many?"

I turned and saw that 'pirate boy' purchasing his newspapers from a hawk-nosed man with an expression of pure boredom on his face. The girl was nowhere to be seen. I watched and listened closely to the boy in front of me, since I was next.

"A hundred," the Pirate Boy ordered more than requested, tossing a coin carelessly at the man, who caught it with surprising ease without a word, as if he was used to this kind of treatment. Milkshake nudged me.

"Do you want to sell with me today?"

Well now. I was extremely glad.

I accepted her invitation gratefully and she shrugged it off brusquely before smiling again. She then indicated to the boy in front of me, who was waiting for his newspapers.

"Dat dere's Jackal," she whispered, "He's probably the only one who has the nerve to make fun of Spot in his face. Handsome one, isn't he?" Milkshake added for the benefit of Pike, who gave her a mock-scowl.

So it was Spot Jackal and his friend was talking about. My interest was caught. I had heard that Brooklyn newsies were fiercely loyal to Conlon. Jackal must be an exception. I didn't have time to continue on my thoughts though, since it was my turn came and I stepped forward. I faced the hawk-nosed man, who looked me up and down appraisingly.

"I'm new," I said rather unnecessarily. He looked at me in a nasty, glowering way. So I hastily said, "And I'll take thirty." I figured that I ought to sell little at first; after all, I had never done this job before. I walked off in possession with my newspapers and waited for Milkshake.

She quickly came over after she got her stack, closely followed by Pike.

"Well, I gotta go now, me ladies," he said, moving his newspapers into a more comfortable position onto his shoulders, supporting them with his arm. He flashed me a dazzling grin, all charm. "Catch ya later, baby."

I uncomfortably watched him go and glanced at Milkshake, who shrugged her shoulders. Her cheeks were tinged a slight red.

"Pike's an incredible flirt; ignore him. Most girls just go head over heels for him."

"I can see why," I replied distantly, looking at her again and noting how her mouth was pressed in a tight line, as though she was trying not to be…jealous? I hoped not. Mildly glad of her effort, I said hastily, "But he's not really my type," then I changed the subject lamely, "Where's Spot? I haven't seen him at all."

"He's left just before you came. You see, he always buys the first papes. Come on, let's get started."

We left the distribution center and Milkshake told me to pick a selling spot so I chose to sell near in the crowded marketplace. We went there and I found myself at loss of what to do. I tried a guess.

"So, you just shout out the headline, they come, they pay, and we're done?"

Her former, sudden stiffness with me disappeared as she grinned. "Sorta," she said vaguely. I shrugged and waved a newspaper as I had seen some newsies do.

"Mayor's daughter falls sick!"

Milkshake shook her head and pulled my arm back down.

"Okay, to sell newspapers, you gotta know two things: What to say an' who to say dem to. You have to change da news a little to get some attention and you have to know what kind of things to say to what kind of people. You see?"

I didn't see. Milkshake saw my blank expression.

"Now, watch," she took a deep breath and yelled out, "Mayor's daughter poisoned. Mayor's daughter near _death_!"

Er?

I stared as an old man trotted excitedly up to Milkshake and bought a newspaper. The strange thing was how the man didn't even look at her as he paid up. She might as well have not been there. In a sense, I suppose that was good. It wouldn't do if someone remembered your face after saying something like that. Besides, there were more chances of you not remembering your customer's faces than them remembering yours. Right?

"Thank you, sir," Milkshake called after him and then turned to grin at me again, looking immensely satisfied with herself. "See?"

"That's a lie," I declared. She shrugged carelessly.

"It pays. Try it."

I scanned another page. _"Neighbors complain of pet pigeon droppings." _I thought for a second.

"Mysterious abnormal objects found on panicked neighbor's roofs!" I shouted earnestly, waving in the air. Milkshake's mouth twitched with internal laughter, but she remained quiet.

A middle-aged woman gave me an odd look and passed by. Another lady came though, and she seemed to be distracted as I thanked her for the penny she gave in return for the newspaper. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Milkshake doubled over and guffawed.

"Talk 'bout exaggeration, ya dolt!" Milkshake laughed, almost knocking into me.

"But the lady bought it, so it doesn't matter, right?" I asked, but couldn't help smiling. She was one of those people who had a certain manner of laughing that made everyone around them laugh along with them, even if they didn't really understand why. Were we going to be friends?

"Mys…teri…ous objects?" Milkshake asked incredulously. She weakly waved a newspaper at me and collapsed against a tree. After a while, she ran out of breath and her laughing trailed off into little gasps. She clapped me on the shoulder enthusiastically, looking pleased. "Blast it, Ace; dat was awful. But make sure no one catches you saying da wrong things. Believe me, I learned it da hard way," she said wryly. I could just imagine.

She finished selling her newspapers quickly, being the professional newsie she was, and of course, I took quite a long time.

"Come on, you stupid gits," I muttered as no one came to buy my last paper. Finally, after changing my headline numerously, I was finished. I thought I did pretty well, especially since it was my first day. I felt a sense of pride as I turned to Milkshake, holding my arms out to show that I was finished. "I'm done!" I said, grinning. "How did I do?"

She shrugged again; a gesture I realized was a favorite of hers. "You're not very good."

I felt my grin sort of freeze. "Oh."

Well, what was I to expect? She was a Brooklynite. Brooklyn wasn't known for manners or friendliness. At least she had been nice enough to stay with me until I was done. Strangely enough, I didn't feel all that angry or hurt. What, you think I'm gonna hate her now? And besides, she's a pro. I'll get there, I promised myself. I'll become so good at my job, that….that…that I'll prove Spot wrong about his conception about girls not being able to work as well as guys.

Milkshake looked around and then glanced at me. "How 'bout lunch?"

"Thank God," I declared and she laughed a clear, breezy laugh.

"Ray's," she said simply, which didn't really make sense, but I followed her as she crossed the street.

We walked for a while in silence, she seemingly engrossed in the marketplace, and I just trying to keep up. We stopped in front of a restaurant which seemed a little broken down, but fairly clean. The letters on the walls were somewhat faded, but I could still see that this was "Ray's." Nearly all the tables were filled, mostly with newsies, although I couldn't really see well from the dirty state of the windows.

Suddenly, I felt someone grab my shoulder and turn me sharply around. I found myself facing a girl around my age, with angry grey eyes, and I felt an immediate sense of dislike. I glanced around and saw that Milkshake was nowhere to be seen. She had probably gone inside already.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the girl with the angry eyes, suspicion thick in her voice…which sounded strangely familiar. I frowned and stepped back a little, not liking the way she was sizing me up.

"What does it look like?" I answered back and I realized belatedly that it wasn't exactly the best response. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

"From what it looked to me, it looked like you were spying on da newsies. You from Queens?"

"I," I said pointedly, "was going to go in, to eat lunch with Milkshake." I was getting irritated. My stomach felt emptier and this girl was, in a sense, standing between me and food, although that sounds a little barbaric. A sensible part of my mind told me that this was dangerously becoming a repeat of my little scuffle with Fire yesterday, but I couldn't see any way out of this.

"You're a Brooklynite?" The girl's eyes narrowed even more.

I stiffened. "So?" I shot back, irritated by the girl's skeptism. I could see what she was thinking: This scrawny kid's joinin' us?

She was about to say something when the most horrible thing happened. I interrupted her. Well, I didn't. My stomach did. It gave one loud audible moan of complaint. I stood there, hating myself, and we were both silent for a second. I was burning up with embarrassment and the girl was just staring, as though she didn't know what to think. Well, who would, really? Here she was, trying to accuse me of spying, and the supposed spy's stomach was growling away. Talk about anticlimactic.

I cleared my throat and tried to gather what little was left of my dignity. "Before we continue this conversation, can I eat?" I asked haughtily, trying to look like nothing had happened. A ghost of a smile crossed her face, but it disappeared soon.

Just at that moment, Milkshake burst out of the door and looked angrily at me.

"Ace, are you comin' or," she caught herself as she saw the girl, "Oh. Hey Artemis."

Artemis? No wonder I thought her voice sounded familiar. She was the girl who had been talking with the boy Jackal, that pirate boy. She had sounded a whole lot friendlier then. Perhaps she disliked strangers? However, she seemed to slightly relax when she nodded at Milkshake in a manner of greeting.

"Ya know her?" she asked, and Milkshake shrugged.

"First day. Ace, this is Artemis…da best thief in New York," Milkshake said pleasantly, although I could see her green eyes dancing with the anticipation of a fight. I chewed at my lip and looked at Artemis, who only raised an eyebrow again and continued to look suspicious. However, her expression grew interested.

"Ace, eh? Da one Fire-"

Milkshake interrupted with a grin. "Yeah."

I was feeling thoroughly exasperated when Artemis gave me a look of disbelief. She looked me up and down again, as if trying to figure me out. Then she passed her judgment. "Hilarious." I gaped at her, astounded by her rudeness. Then she turned around and walked away.

"Come on, let's eat," Milkshake said finally. Artemis abruptly turned around without a word and walked away. I glared after her, wondering whether I should make her explain herself. But I decided against it. It was only my first day. If I lost it on my first day, how much worse was it going to get later on?

"You'll get used to her."

"I think," I said, "I won't."

Milkshake grinned and shook her head. "Nah. You will. No one hates Artemis."

I frowned doubtfully, no longer feeling all that happy. I didn't feel like going into that restaurant now, full of those newsies who might very well be just like this Artemis. Thief, right? I reached up to adjust my hat, hoping Milkshake didn't see my expression.

_What_ was I getting myself into?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yah well, hopefully this isn't too bad. I'm off to re-writing the next chapter nowwww.


	3. The Real Motives

Author's Note: This rewritten version lacks a lot of characters, which may result with some confusion later on. I'm trying my best to rewrite as fast as I can, but if I can't, just bear with me, please. Anyway, here you go:

* * *

The restaurant was more crowded than I had thought, especially since, like at the distribution center, all of the newsies seemed to be talking at once. When I entered, everyone surreptitiously shifted in their chairs and gave me a slow, bemused look. I bit my lip and followed Milkshake, telling myself that I didn't give a rip about what they saw.

I quickly scanned the room, feeling an uncomfortable nudge in my stomach that wasn't hunger. What if Fire was in? I searched for the bully, holding my breath anxiously. The tables were nearly all full, and almost every newsie (I thought) in Brooklyn seemed to be here…but Fire was not. I shifted, slightly relieved, but unable to relax. I could feel the weight of someone's gaze on me, and my shoulder blades itched. I turned my head and glanced over my shoulder.

_He _was there. Spot Conlon. And he was watching, as though he were trying to remember who I was. Somehow this upset me. He didn't even remember me? This gave me the impression that he offered girls jobs all the time, or I had seemed so boring to him that he didn't even find anything of interest in me. I stared back, rather upset. He frowned and looked away once, as if he was concentrating.

Eventually, realization flickered in his face and his eyes lifted to meet mine, an amused glint flickering in that ocean-colored gaze. I could tell he was about to make some sort of gesture or a remark to somehow embarrass me. He ran a hand through his blonde-streaked hair and leaned back in his chair without taking his eyes off of me, arrogance practically oozing out in every line of his lean body as he crossed his arms across his chest. I turned around immediately and sat down at Milkshake's table. My shoulders hunched over defensively. I could practically _feel _him smirking, and I didn't like it. What was so funny anyway?

Peeved, I quickly ordered some food to a waiter, who gave me a glower before making his way through the crowded tables. I looked around curiously at the other newsies, who were staring back at me with outright hostility, or completely ignoring me. More of the latter, really, because they were talking amongst themselves…a story about a Queen and Duke or something…I really couldn't follow.

Milkshake didn't bother to introduce me to them, and I just sat there like an idiot as she joined in their conversation. The food came surprisingly soon and I took a bite, savoring the taste. It was a simple stew, with carrots and some meat, and was surprisingly tasty for its price. I felt my spirits rise despite myself, and I dug in, savoring the taste.

"Good, ain't it?"

I looked up to see the girl across the table looking at me. "Oh yeah," I replied, my mouth full. The food disappeared quickly within the next few bites. Of course, it wasn't enough, but at least I was merely hungry instead of starving. I faced the girl, anxious to make a good first impression. "I'm Ace, by the way."

She had dirty blonde hair tied ruthlessly into a severe bun, but some strands were messily framing her face, which rather ruined the whole effect. Her green eyes grew interested when I mentioned my name, and I wondered whether she had heard about the Fire incident too. I felt defensive and I tried to figure out why it had become something so big. Maybe she would tell me.

But she said nothing and returned to her food. Then she suddenly looked at me again.

"Fire," she declared, "Is a foul dingleberry gone wrong."

I stared. "Oh," I said politely, and she smiled, as if proud of having her point made. Then I realized she was waiting for me to say something, so I asked after a beat, "What's a dingleberry?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

Then she returned to her food, as if nothing out of ordinary had happened.

"You met Spot?" she asked, changing the subject again.

"Yeah."

"So…," she shot a glance over to said person's table, "What did you think of him?"

Uh oh. I paused, thinking and trying to be as honest as I could. I couldn't really tell her that I thought he was arrogance personified, could I? I've _heard _how loyal these people were. I looked down and played with my fork, trying to figure out what to say.

"He's a nice sort…I guess," I mumbled, lying through my teeth, "Pleasant. Brave. Kind."

When I looked up, she looked incredulous. "Spot? Pleasant? Kind?" she echoed, staring at me. Then she burst out laughing, guffawing like she had heard the joke of the century. "You're funny, Ace. I think I like ya."

I grinned despite myself, feeling my spirits rise at her good humor. "Alright," I said bluntly, "I think…well, I only met him yesterday. But I got the impression he's so full of it, you know? So full of himself."

She snickered. "So you noticed, eh?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, practically giddy with relief at being understood and encouraged by her willingness to gossip, "And the way he talks! Like he thinks he's God's gift to women, or something." I remembered how smug he had seemed, as if he expected me to be bowled over by his charm. I curled my lip at the thought and shook my head. "Ugh. Pathetic. Although," I added, vaguely noticing that the blonde girl was slowly looking uncomfortable, "He's not _ugly_. I mean, I suppose some girls _would _go for him, if you like that sort of thing."

"Oh yeah?" she remarked weakly.

I shrugged, "Got nice eyes."

"Why, thanks, darlin'. Glad you think so."

I whirled around in my chair to see none other than Spot, standing with an amused expression on his face. I gaped at him, astounded by my rotten mistake. I tried to say something intelligent, or to make some sort of excuse, but my mouth just remained in its charming position and I couldn't speak. So I just turned around, and stared at my hands. The girl, whose name I still didn't know, gave a feeble grin at me and then shrugged. Spot gave a soft laugh, and then walked around the table to take the chair across me. The other girls greeted him and turned back to their conversations.

Those eyes I had just complimented were laughing at me again and I wondered whether everyone was laughing too. I frowned and his lips quirked upwards, as if he were enjoying my embarrassment. I glowered.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," I muttered. He flashed me a smile that wasn't at all a smile, and I felt my face grow hot. The blonde girl had conveniently turned away to talk with Milkshake, which left me all alone with Spot. I wondered how _much _he had heard, other than my remark about his eyes. How long had he been standing there, listening into the conversation?

"So, ya like me eyes?"

"What is it?" I cut in, hoping he would just leave me alone and get straight down to business. He looked ready to go on teasing me, to keep making a fool out of me in front of everyone, but I think he took pity and changed his mind. He took off his hat and put on the table. He leaned back in his chair and observed me, as if in the middle of making a decision. I endured, trying to seem politely impatient…yeah.

"I'll be goin' to Manhattan tomorrow," he finally announced.

"Oh."

"And," he continued with a smile, "I decided you'd better come with me and Jackal to meet dem Manhattaners. Jack Kelly's a good friend of mine."

"I see. Sure." This was, obviously, an order, not a request.

"Anyway, sell your papes quickly tomorrow and we'll meet ya at the Lodgin' House."

"Sure," I said again, lifelessly. Spot nodded and walked off, playing with the top of his cane as he did so. One of the girls, a girl with somewhat exotic features, with short dark hair and almond-shaped grey eyes, stood up silently and smoothly followed him outside. I watched them leave out of the corner of my eyes and wordlessly let my head fall on the table with a small thump.

"Hey Ace," said a voice that belonged to Milkshake.

"I hate that boy," I mumbled half to myself.

"What?"

Milkshake had probably not heard. Good.

"Never mind." I propped my head up with my hands and smiled innocently at her. She shrugged and stood up from her chair.

"Let's get goin' to da LH."

I followed her wordlessly, glancing over at the blonde girl, who didn't seem to notice. The weather outside had cooled down a bit, and I had to pull my cloak closer around myself. The Lodging House was not as far as I thought it would be, only about a ten minute walk from Ray's.

When we reached there, Milkshake threw the door open and went in. I quickly followed her, but it was one of those horrid doors that immediately close after you go in, so I nearly got caught.

"Brooklyn's da only lodging house for newsies dat's got two rooms; one for da guys and da other for da girls. It's probably da biggest in the whole of New York." she sounded proud, so I looked around.

The place was not exactly in the greatest of shape. It was dusty and dirty, with paint peeling off from large sections on the walls. One of the windows had an ugly crack across the length of it. The floor creaked as we walked on it, along with each stair step. But I rather liked this place. It kinda felt…well, it felt _natural_. It wasn't like the orphanage, where every single spot had to be clean, polished, and perfect. This place felt _lived_, and loved by those who lived in it.

After we went up the staircase, we entered a smallish room. There were about seven bunks and an open door on the left looked like it led to a washroom. This was more or less cleaner than the…lobby (??), and I wondered whether there were more rooms.

"Well, ya got a preference on where to sleep?" Milkshake asked carelessly, going over to her bunk, which was the closest to the door.

"Nah," I told her, not really seeing why she had this odd expression on her face, like she thought something was funny.

"Well, good, 'cos you don't have much options. Dere's only one empty bunk and dat's da one above Artemis'," she said, with a nasty kind of glee.

I winced.

"I'd rather sleep on the floor," I muttered sarcastically, but Milkshake thought I was serious.

"Nah, you won't like dat. We haven't swept it in…like…ages. And dere are probably bugs in da cracks."

I suppressed a shudder. Offered with a choice between bugs and Artemis, the latter seemed much better.

"Mind if I explore?" I asked exasperatedly, resigning myself to that bunk. Well, I told myself, get along with Artemis then. That was all there was to it. This sort of thing wasn't worth being stuck-up and stubborn about.

I wandered around the place, taking careful note of the backdoor downstairs. It was cleverly hidden behind the staircase, and led out to the street behind the LH. It was probably a place they sneaked in through (or sneaked out), especially when they were in some kind of trouble. It would be a useful place to keep in mind.

I was walking up the stairs again when the door creaked open. I started guiltily, and turned around. Two boys came in, their hair plastered against their foreheads as if they had just gone swimming. I felt suddenly shy, which was entirely ridiculous, and I hastily ducked into another room before they saw me.

This one was similar to the one where I was to sleep, and I sat down on one of the bunks, bouncing absently. Was this another one of the girls'? Or…_oh_. My eyes widened. This was probably the _boys'_. I was in the _boys' _room. I shot up to my feet, aghast. I glanced around once, and saw that the word "Conlon" was etched roughly into the wood of the bunk I had been sitting on. Mortified, I hastily went over to the door, half-running.

Then those two boys I had seen before suddenly charged in, terrifying me. They were guffawing at some joke and didn't notice me as I shrieked in alarm, feeling so awfully clumsy as I nearly tripped over a boy who came walking in…_on his hands_.

!!

The other boy saw me gaping. "Oi! What are you doing here?" he snarled at me, drawing the attention of his acrobatic fried, who jumped up. I saw that it was that Jackal guy, the one with the pony tail and scar. I stuttered and made embarrassed noises, feeling like an utter fool.

"Sorry," I apologized for what seemed a third time and went red when I realized that no, it wasn't the third time, it was the fifth. So I shut up and stared at them in a rather rigid way, which made them stop and stare back. We just stood there, the boys on one side and me on the other, staring at each other. I suppose I must have looked strange, suddenly clamming up in front of them, but they seemed to find that funny, because all of a sudden the snarling boy stopped snarling.

"I," I said clearly, but my voice shook a bit, "shall get out now."

The pirate boy was watching me closely. As I noticed before, they were really _wet_. As in, they were dripping all over the floor, and I was already rather damp from tripping over them. I stared back and automatically crossed my arms protectively, hoping desperately that these boys were one of the friendlier Brooklynites.

I just stood there mutely, rather scared despite myself. I had heard enough stories about how cruel some of these newsies were. They wouldn't think twice about killing you, beating you up, or doing worse things to you. The pirate boy didn't seem too bad, but the other one looked like he could be nasty. I wanted to get out _now_.

However, I stayed where I was and tried not to squirm. "I didn't know this was your room. I was just exploring the place. I didn't mean to intrude or anything." I added mentally, _Don't hurt me. _

They were both very _tall_, but the pirate boy – Jackal, was it? – was by far taller than his friend, or anyone I knew. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes and I blinked once, startled at how _huge _he was. He had to be at least five inches above six feet. Then again, maybe I was just too short. At any rate, I felt tiny compared to these boys and I went red, wishing I had the nerve to just push past them and run away.

Then, all of a sudden, Jackal's eyes widened, as if he had just had a revelation. "Are ya scared of us?"

This caught me off guard. Yes, I was a coward, but there was no way I was going to admit it! "No," I lied through my teeth, but I wasn't really lying anymore. Somehow his blunt question dissipated my fear and turned it into a sort of indignation. "Why on earth would I be scared of someone who walks around on his hands?"

Jackal stared. Then he snickered and said with a childish randomness that didn't suit him at all, "You're so small."

I gaped indignantly at him.

They started laughing between themselves, chortling as if the pirate boy had said something really hilarious. Or maybe I was the hilarious one.

"Yeah, well, Spot's a bit short; he likes 'em shorter than him."

"What, ya think she's Spot's?"

"A change for him, rather, but she probably is."

"Aw, too bad."

I was upset. I gave them my very best glare, especially to the Jackal guy, just because he was the tallest. He blinked.

"I think dat just 'bout burned me," he remarked and then flashed a devilish grin. "I like ya. What do dey call you?"

"Ace," I took a deep breath and tried not to erupt. So I managed to say, very calmly, "And I am _not _puny; it's just many people are gigantic and abnormally over-sized. _And_, I am not 'Spot's,' whatever that means, because I find him an irritating prick. Good-bye."

The one who snarled at me stopped me from leaving. "Woah woah, girl. We was only teasin'."

"Oh," I said frostily. "I see. Can I leave now?"

He grinned, but not unkindly. "Runnin' away?"

I winced. "Yes," I admitted.

Jackal – pirate boy – gave me a closer look. "Did you say your name was Ace?"

I watched him as he grinned again. "Ace as in da _Fire _Ace?"

"I'd rather like it if you'd keep quiet about it," I said uncomfortably. "It really wasn't a big deal."

"I think it's hilarious," the other boy declared, winking at me. "By da way, you can call me Pilot." He tipped his hat, friendly all of a sudden. I just nodded, unsure of how to respond.

We all turned when we heard the door slam downstairs, followed by the sounds of many running feet. Pilot gave an exaggerated sigh and gave a dramatic sweep of his arm.

"Da sound ya hear would be all of Brooklyn rushin' into dis building."

"Oh. I better go then," I said hastily.

"Oh no. Stay. We'd love to introduce ya," said Jackal with a straight face, but I suspected he was joking. Or at least, I _hoped _he was. At any rate, I shook my head.

"No. Goodbye," I waved an abrupt goodbye before fleeing. There was no way I was going to stand here if everyone came storming in. I could hear the two of them laughing, all amused at funny Ace. My face was flaming, but somehow I didn't think the two of them were really all that _mean_. They just seemed like…regular boys.

I peeked out and scuttled back to the other room I was to sleep in. Milkshake wasn't there so I went over to the bunk I had been given. I lay down, experimentally feeling the mattress. The wooden shafts beneath were unforgivingly hard, and there was no blanket. I shrugged. This would be no different from the bed there was in the room at the orphanage where they put girls who misbehaved. I had been there a lot.

Still, I would need a blanket when the weather grew colder. I glanced around and saw that most of the other bunks had some sort of covering or another, whether they were large jackets or cloth. I was just wondering whether I could just use my cloak as a blanket, when a few girls started trickling in. They scarcely gave me a look, so I just lay there like a dope and decided to pretend I was asleep.

"What are ya doin' here?" said a very angry voice next to me.

I opened my eyes and saw Artemis scowling down at me with fierce disapproval. I sat up and, despite my previous intentions to be friendlier, I'm afraid I just went off and returned her scowl. Scowls did nothing for me. They just made me bad-tempered. "I was given this bunk," I said shortly, "By Milkshake."

Her face darkened and she looked like she wanted to say something really rude, but then change her mind. Vaguely thankful for her effort, I tried to smile back. But she just snorted and whirled around to leave the room. Obviously, she was not very happy about the fact that I was to sleep in the bunk above hers. Well, too bad. I wasn't happy either. The other girls were peering at me curiously, but none of them made a move to talk to me.

So I pretended to sleep again.

Before long, it was dinner time. Milkshake woke me up (I had actually gone to sleep with all my pretending). All the girls pounded down the stairs to rush to the lobby. I stood up, feeling rather lonely. No one was talking to me, other than Milkshake and Artemis (er yeah), and I had seen that blonde girl somewhere but she didn't see me. I stood up and shrugged my cloak on, wondering darkly whether Fire would be there.

I walked out of the room and peered down to see some more newsies disappearing downstairs. I was about to pass the boy's room when Spot Conlon stepped out and I stumbled into him.

I hastily moved back and he glanced at me with unresponsive eyes, as if he didn't recognize me for a second. (again!) For a moment I wanted to run, because I was still upset over what had happened in the cafeteria. But that was the coward's way out. I sighed and decided I ought to say something.

"Hello. Thank you for yesterday." I was pretty proud of my calm, composed tone; friendly, but not too friendly that he'd get the wrong idea.

He just looked at me. But this time, he recognized me a lot faster than he had before. His serious face suddenly broke into an attractive grin, and he said with a slight trace of sarcasm in his voice, "Well, well, if it ain't me gender-confused friend. Ace, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said, but I sounded flat. Something about his wording irritated me. There was a pause. I added rather lamely, trying to keep being polite, "And you are Spot."

He smirked at my eloquence. "Ya lookin' a lot prettier today," he said and winked. "I see you followed me advice about letting your hair down."

I felt very sour, and I realized with a sort of depressing dampness that he was preparing to tease me about what had happened previously in the café. But I just gritted my teeth into a painful smile, which felt as forced to me as it must have looked to him. However, my control only went so far; my voice sounded annoyed and upset when I answered with a short, "Yeah, well."

He looked vaguely interested and he scanned my face with those gray-flecked eyes which I simply couldn't get around. No matter how irritating this boy was, he was blessed with incredible eyes. Still, I wondered whether it would seem impolite if I just pushed past him to go down. Maybe not. Then I wondered why in the world I was wondering. As if this was manner school or something.

However, before I could decide either way, those eyes flickered, and his lips curled back into a derisive sneer. "Ya angry at me again? Dis ain't gonna be a habit, is it?"

"I'm not angry at you," I replied, immediately upset. He raised his eyebrows amusedly and I crossed my arms, all irritated again. Why was it that everything that Spot said was always sarcastic, scathing, or embarrassing? I hated people who could never allow a decent conversation to pass. Already my guard was up, expecting him to say something to embarrass me further.

So before he did, I remarked very stonily, "And if I am, it's because you eavesdrop."

"Hmm?" he said, _pretending _he didn't know.

I nearly rose to the bait and started to snap at him. But I caught myself just in time, and settled for my very coldest stare. He continued to pretend to try and remember. Then he went, "Ah. Da café."

"Yes."

"You was talkin' loud. Everyone could hear you. But den again," he said slowly, expectantly, "Dames never know how loud they bellow when they talk."

My mouth dropped at his supreme nastiness. As if I was some sort of bellowing elephant. I decided I couldn't take this degradation anymore. Without a (bellowing) word, I went past him and went down the stairs. Then, after I had taken a few steps, I couldn't stand the fact that he was watching me go, standing there all smug because he had gotten in the final word. All of a sudden, I felt extremely _angry_. I stopped and turned, glaring at this stupid guy whom I ought to have been grateful to.

He looked surprised, but still amused, in a bored sort of way that sent my temper blazing to new heights. "Got somethin' to say?"

"I do too!" I blurted, and then felt my face grow hot as he raised his eyebrows. "I mean, I _do _know when I talk loud. I mean," I gritted my teeth, "I _wasn't _talking loud at all! I was merely having a conversation with a possible new friend, then you just sauntered over and stood there, _listening_. That's just so low and…dishonorable," I paused and narrowed my eyes at him, "How much did you hear?"

He still had a smile on his face, but then he looked like he was starting to lose his patience. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Enough," he answered calmly.

"What-," I broke off and looked at him sharply. Something in his voice made me suspicious. Was he trying to hint that he heard my calling him an arrogant prick? Was he trying to say that he had overheard enough to judge my character as an ungrateful brat? Was he insinuating a threat; that his knowledge of my opinions of him could result badly for me in the future?

He grinned down at me again, all teeth and no eyes. "Besides," he leaned in, as if to emphasize a point, "Ya better get used to it. I ain't too…_honorable_."

I, to my deepest shame, flinched. He drew back, looking satisfied with himself. "And dat, darlin'," he bowed mockingly, "Is my right."

I was angry now, angry at how he had purposely brought up the fact that I practically owed him my life. He straightened to his full height and it was obvious that he was trying not to laugh. Right then and there, I despised him utterly. I hated that I owed him something, that I was in his debt. I would have almost rather have been beaten up by Fire than to owe something to this jerk of a rescuer. And how dare he just fling it in my face like that?

He smiled broadly and remarked as if nothing had happened, "How 'bout dinner, eh? Da rest must be wonderin' where we are."

I couldn't return his smile. I stared at him, that smiling, smug snake, and he just looked back at me with awful coolness. I was seething. I was sure steam was coming out of my ears. But there was something in the way his eyes glinted that made me hold my tongue. He was warning me to stop, to accept defeat, and that I would be foolish if I lost my temper again. Although I was gloriously angry, I wasn't a total idiot. I didn't want to get kicked out on my first day.

So, I wordlessly lowered my eyes and backed down. He smiled again, but in a rather predatory way.

With another mocking bow, he stepped aside and walked down the stairs. I eyed him, noting how he walked with a sort of feline grace to his steps. He was lithe, built for speed more than strength, but I had the nasty feeling that if anyone ever got on his wrong side, he would be one slick fighter. I didn't want to be on his wrong side. But oh, how I wanted to kick him, right then and there, and watch him tumble down the stairs. I sighed. He probably would be expecting that. I settled for a silent glare.

My mind automatically replayed our argument. Of course, I had been an idiot. I should have held my tongue, instead of coming back for more. I didn't even have the right to dislike this boy. I ought to be thankful. But I wasn't. I disliked him. And the worst of it was that now he knew it. I decided then that I had better avoid him as much as possible. From now on, talking to him would mean confronting him, and I didn't want trouble.

I silently followed his way down the stairs and went into a rather grungy room, which was sprawled with chairs randomly placed around dirty tables. At the side of the room were a few large pots, full of some sort of broth that didn't look that great, but the newsies were enthusiastically dumping their food onto tin plates and heartily eating their fill.

Conlon, who was next to me, said pleasantly, "Dem nuns. Every week today dey make dinner for us poor kids. Helpful ladies, eh?"

I just nodded, disconcerned at how he acted like nothing had happened. He gave me a blisteringly brilliant smile and then went off to the table nearest to the pots. There was already a chair left for him and all the boys and girls greeted him cheerfully with a sort of devotion that made me blink. Some of the boys clapped him on the back and made jokes that weren't really funny, but he laughed and conversed with them easily. I just stood there, peeved.

These Brooklynites _loved _him. It was unbelievable. How could anyone feel any form of attachment or loyalty to someone who was so obviously conceited, selfish, and ruthless to his very core? I crossed my arms, and frowned, feeling oddly cheated. Maybe I, not he, was the one with the problem. I shook my head, exasperated with myself, and went over to the large pots.

I got myself one of those tin plates and dumped some of the broth-ish stuff on. It didn't seem too bad, just a bit tasteless, maybe. Most of the newsies, I saw, had something of their own to add to their dinner. Bread or a potato, that sort of thing. I made a mental note of it and went to find a place to sit.

Everyone ignored me, as expected. Some of them gave me nasty looks when I accidentally brushed against them to look for a seat, but I didn't dare glare back. I saw one empty seat, in between two guys, and decided to go for it. The hefty one on the right was leaning into the chair a bit, and I realized there was no space unless I asked him to move.

Sighing, I reached over to tap him on the shoulder. "Um, sorry. Do you think you can move? Shift a little-"

He turned around sharply with a glare that was all too familiar.

"Oh," I squeaked, and felt my face grow hot.

It was Fire, looking as mean and nasty as ever. My mouth dropped open, astounded at my rotten luck, and I snatched my hand away from his shoulder as fast as I could. He also stared at me, as if he didn't recognize me. But this only lasted for a moment. His eyes narrowed. "Hey, ain't you…," those eyes widened with recognition. "You," he growled dangerously, his face twisting into a snarl. "Ya little, sneakin' rat! What you doin' here, eh?"

I was aware of the sudden silence flooding the room. I glanced around and saw that every eye was upon me and Fire. My face was burning by now. Talk about not attracting attention. I was sure he wouldn't do anything here, especially with Conlon watching, but I had the feeling that everyone was expecting me to stand up to him and do something marvelous, like punch his lights out.

"Hi," I finally said, gulping.

He abruptly got to his feet, as though I had just made him angrier by answering back. His chair and the empty chair I had wanted went crashing over and he strode at me, grabbing my arm. Apparently, he had forgotten all about Spot and his warning. I tried to yank back, but he merely bulled his way forward and slammed my back against the table behind me.

The room was dead silent, except for the sound of Fire's harsh breathing. I winced as the rough wood dug into my spine and thought furiously, aware of everyone watching. Fire didn't seem to notice. He drew closer and he looked just as murderous as he did before. "A girl, eh? I knew dere was somethin' fishy 'bout you," he repeated nastily, "What ya doin' here?"

I squirmed. "Let go," I said angrily, more embarrassed than really frightened. This was awful. Every single newsie in the room was watching, waiting to see what happened. For a second, I wished very much that Conlon would intervene. But I could see him out of the corner of my eye, just sitting there all smug and calm. I wondered whether he was purposely letting Fire bully me, just to teach me to be grateful or something equally absurd.

I set my jaw and stared straight at Fire. Fine. I'll get out of this without any help. I'll deal with him myself, and even if I lost, I didn't care.

All of this flashed through my head within the space of two seconds. Fire grabbed my hair and tugged, viciously. "Answer me, you-"

My hand came into contact with a cup made of the same tin as the plate I had dropped when Fire had grabbed me. He shook me roughly, as if he were trying to force an answer out of me. Thinking quickly before this situation escalated, I grabbed the cup and flung it at his face. He gave a roar as he flailed backwards and I realized that its contents were beer, as the dark liquid splashed right over his face. He let me go as his hands instinctively went to his face, and I hastily stepped backwards.

To my surprise, everyone started to laugh and cheer. I looked around sharply, suspicious whether they were laughing at me or mocking me for not fighting with my fists. But I saw Conlon lifting his own cup to me in a toast, his eyes glittering with approval, and someone or another was clapping me on the back. I must have done something right.

Of course, that was when Fire flung a chair at me. I ducked instinctively, and it went clattering on the table and other newsies leapt out of the way. "Watch it!" growled Artemis, but Fire didn't hear her.

"I'll kill ya!" he roared at me, still half-blinded from the beer in his eyes. "I'll strangle da life outta-"

"Fire." Conlon's voice cut in, hard and sharp as a knife. "Don't be a fool."

Fire looked ready to lunge at me, and his hands were clenching and unclenching, as if he were imagining them around my throat. I have to admit, I was a bit frightened. He looked like a mad bull or something. Not that I have anything against bulls. Only the human ones.

"Spot, you-," he growled, glaring from me to him.

"Yeah?" Conlon's eyes, previously rather dull and bored, lit up oddly, and he looked suddenly interested and almost…enthusiastic. I felt a shiver run down my spine. The expectant tone in his voice was even more threatening than if he had been angry. "Got somethin' to say?"

Again, that challenge. He was daring Fire to defy him, was _looking forward _to it, was anticipating a fight. I gripped the edge of the table tightly and stared as Fire's jaw clenched and his red eyes grew flinty. He definitely looked ready to fight back, but he seemed to know that it wouldn't do him any good. But he wasn't backing down either. He just remained standing, torn between defying Spot and obeying him.

Spot slowly rose from his chair, with disgusting grace, and he smiled at Fire encouragingly, as though trying to help him make the wrong decision. The room was silent once more, and I looked around to see everyone breathlessly waiting. Apparently, the attention was all on them now, and not me. I was immensely glad…but I was a bit apprehensive of what might happen.

Fire was obviously the larger and heftier of the two, and was looked a lot stronger. But I realized just then that there was something _ruthless _about Conlon that simply couldn't be matched. Like he'd do more than just beat you up if you went against him. And he'd do it with that smirk on his face, enjoying it all.

Finally, Fire shook his head with an irritated grunt and seemed to step down, wiping at his eyes one last time. He unclenched his fists and gave me a glare, so full of hate that it made me flinch. Then he stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. Everyone in the room seemed to heave a sigh and Spot relaxed, his face inscrutable. It was as though Fire had taken all the tension out of the room with him. The newsies resumed eating, muttering under their breath and whispering to each other. I let out my breath slowly, relieved that nothing had happened. I went to get more broth, grabbing up my tin plate which I had dropped.

I rather felt I had joined the Brooklynites at the worst time. It was obvious that there was something going on. Fire was against Spot so obviously that things seemed to be broiling up to a fight. I had the feeling this had happened before, what with all the disappointed looks everyone was giving each other. And I, I had just dropped right in the middle of it all.

…Which of course, made me wonder whether the only reason why I had been offered a place here was for Conlon to have an excuse to get rid of Fire.

This was awful, but made sense. I glanced at Spot and was startled to find his eyes trained on me once again. They were narrowed slightly, as though reading every thought that passed through my head. I could have sworn that he really did know what I was thinking. He smiled slightly when our eyes met, but he was the one who looked away first.

It _did _make sense. From what I knew of my wonderful Brooklynite leader, he was certainly not some altruistic, generous sort of person who'd do _anything _without a motive. I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking I had some Brooklyn-tough-newsie quality that had caught his eye, and I severely doubted he was interested in my looks. I was short and scrawny, and he had already made it clear that he found me a nuisance.

So then, why allow me to join?

Because Fire seemed to dislike me immensely, and it would be the perfect way to cause more trouble. I gritted my teeth, feeling like I could tear Spot apart with my bare hands. _I _was the trouble. _I _was to be fought over, but not in the least in the romantic sense. _I _was to be the excuse for Spot to prick Fire's dignity and anger as much as he could, so that the bully would finally explode and fight him. And there would be no question about who would win. Of course Spot would win. Then he'd be able to kick Fire out with reason.

This was horrible. I felt _used_.

Spot was prepared to _bear _with me. But what would happen once Fire left? I frowned and tried to continue eating the broth, which rather didn't taste good. But it made no sense in letting food go to waste. I sighed, putting my unsettling thoughts aside, and finished my broth.

"So, what's behind your name?"

I looked up and saw a few girls looking curiously at me. The one asking was that blonde girl at the restaurant again, except this time the girls around her were also paying attention. So _now_ they were being friendly. As though flinging that beer into Fire's eyes had meant I was one of them now. This was funny in a twisted sort of way. Violence equaled acceptance? If I hadn't stood up for myself, was I to always remain an outsider?

"I'm a card-player," I replied, a little bit self-consciously. A lot of the girls at the orphanage had thought me crude and nasty for gambling. I had hated it. Why was it that if guys are good with cards, they are praised, but if girls are, they are thought rude?

"Are you any good?" asked the same girl. (I really needed to find out her name.)

"Not really," I shrugged, all unnaturally modest, "I just like it."

"How 'bout a game?"

I glanced at her again, startled at her sudden act of friendliness. Her eyes were shrewd, as though she could see I was completely out of my element here. She wanted me to feel accepted, and I found that I was grateful. I nodded, unable to keep myself from smiling. It had been some time since I had played.

"Sure," I said, eating the last of my broth in two quick bites.

"Draw poker?" she grinned challengingly, producing an old pack of cards from her pocket. "Let's see if you're as gutsy as you were just now."

I was startled. "I wasn't gutsy," I said with rather stupid honesty, "I wanted to run out of there."

The girls exchanged glances. "Yeh well. Dis ain't da end of things.

I shrugged, trying to put on a brave face as I accepted my cards. "Endings never thrill me anyway."

* * *

Author's Note: Well, they don't thrill me either, so let's get on to the next chappie.


	4. Manhattanners

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**_Author's Note:_** A-ha…um, ok, I shall give my excuses foist. :D I'm kinda late in my studies so my parents grounded me to only 30 minutes a day to read/write fanfiction. Sad, ain't it? I'm pretty much catching up now, so I think I'll be allowed to write more though. Maybe. Anyway, sorry it took SO long to put this up. Very sorry. bows in traditional old Japanese fashion 'K, that was weird. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. Tell me what you think of it, alright? Thanks!

**_Disclaimer:_** Ace and Fire are aaaaaaaall mine! laughs manically But everyone else is not. sob All those nice characters…sigh :P

Onto the chapter!

* * *

After eating, there was a poker game which everyone played except for Fire. I played and tried to ignore Fire's glaring eyes boring into my back. I kept my cool though and won the game with a full house. Pretty good, eh?

Ob and a couple of other newsies went back to their homes, while we went back to our room around nine. Then there was a pillow fight, started by Ob and Milkshake. You have no idea how painful it was to play with these girls, even if they were clobbering you with pillows.

Careful not to hit Artemis' head with my legs, I exhaustingly pulled myself up to my bunk and basically _died_.

The next morning, I stayed in bed for nearly thirty minutes, listening to some of the girls waking up while others snored. I was in that dazed state, you know, the one where you're asleep but half-aware of your surroundings. I was about to slip back into a real sleep when a sudden and loud thump shook the whole Lodging House. I was startled into full waking and I heard Artemis cursing below about "That idiot Jackal."

Groaning at the fact that I couldn't go back to sleep again, I dropped out my bunk and onto the ground ungracefully. I nearly landed on Artemis, who was just getting out of bed. Before she could react, I mumbled a "Sorry," and headed for the washroom.

Breakfast was less subdued than dinner, since most of the newsies were still half-asleep. I had started eating when Sodapop sleepily walked over and plopped herself down next to me.

"'Morning," Sodapop said absentmindedly as she reached for bread.

"So, what do you plan to do today?" She suddenly asked after a while.

"Nothing much, I think." I didn't know we 'planned' on what to do. "I'm going to Manhattan after I sell my papes, that's about it."

"Really?"

I explained as I watched Spot stop a fight between two grumpy newsies.

"Ooooooh." _Pause._ "You'll like 'em," Sodapop said as she took a huge bite out of her bread.

"Who, the newsies there?"

"Yeah. Say hi to Jack for me. Hey, wanna sell wit me today?"

I had wanted to try selling alone this time, even if it was only my second, but since she offered, I agreed. Sodapop was talkative and I was talkative, so we got along well as we sold together.

I sold my papers as fast as I could, but I was still not very good at it so I came rushing to the Lodging House a little late with Sodapop. Spot and Jackal was waiting there…with Cat and Artemis.

"You're late," Spot said as he twirled his cane.

"Sorry," I said breathlessly and at the same time stole a glance at the girls. They were the two girls I was most unfamiliar with. I had thought it was going to be just me and Jackal who was going along with Spot.

"Well, see ya," Sodapop said as she gave a half-wave and walked into the Lodging House. I would have called after her, but we already started walking off.

Cat was walking slightly behind Spot and he was talking to her, so it turned out that I was walking with Artemis and Jackal. He glanced down at me so I looked back. He suddenly cracked a grin, the same grin I had dubbed as 'devilish' yesterday.

"You're Ace, aren't you?"

"Uh huh. And you're Jackal," I replied. Jackal didn't look too surprised that I knew who he was.

"Yep. So, jus' joined yesterday?"

"Yeah." Kinda boring conversation, but a conversation at least. I could tell Artemis was listening. I tried to change the subject. "So, why're we going to Manhattan?'

Jackal grinned. "Well, now, old Spot wants to see Jackie-boy, dat's one reason. He pays dem Manhattaners a visit once in a while."

"What do you mean, that's one reason? There's another?"

"Yep, anudder reason's 'cos Sundance came exploding at Artemis a few days back." He threw a friendly arm across my shoulders and lowered his voice dramatically as if he was about to tell me an important secret. "We was all at the docks, having a great time, especially since Spot wasn't dere. Then Sundance comes stormin' out of nowhere and punches Artemis down onto the dock floor, yelling at her to 'Give it back!' Now, when Sundance and Artemis are good friends, they're totally borin'. If they ain't in the best of moods wit each other, they're great fun to watch. Before ya know it, Sundance and Artemis are beatin' the daylights out of each udder. Naturally, Spot comes alon' and breaks up da fight. Moody ol' Spot."

Artemis snorted. "All I did was steal somethin' she stole from someone else, I think it was Midnight. It's not a big deal at all."

"Yeah, unless that Midnight person finds out," I muttered to myself. Thieves always annoyed me. The only reason why was because I probably couldn't steal from a lifeless duck.

Artemis laughed unexpectedly, startling me. " Midnight wouldn't find out, she's too much of an idiot to do so."

"Dat's what you think, Midnight's not as stupid as she looks," Jackal said. Artemis gave a short scornful laugh.

"I don't think so," she returned. Now why do I get this feeling that Artemis wasn't exactly intimate friends with Midnight?

We were at on the bridge between Brooklyn and Manhattan…a very long one. Still, it was worth it since the view it had over the river reflected the sky was rather nice. Priceless, actually.

It seemed as though the moment we stepped off the bridge, the atmosphere changed. In Brooklyn, there was a rough, jaunty, yet a little serious air to the place, while in Manhattan, it just seemed _busy._ Busy, fast, and bustling. The crowd of people talking, buying, and selling naturally added to this feel…well, duh, I guess.

We made our way through the crowd until we came a little less occupied street. There was a statue which this stone figure of a guy was sitting. Some newsies were lounging nearby, but Spot took no notice of them. They did, though.

Shouts of enthusiastic, yet somewhat cautious greetings met us. Well, more like to Spot, Jackal, Cat, and Artemis. They didn't know me anyway. Spot gave them a grin and answered some of them.

He sauntered over to a group of newsies playing a game of poker on the ground near the statue. He leaned against it and smirked at one of the boys who looked up.

"Hey Race," Spot said. Aha. Race. That kid I had heard so much about.

"Hiya, Spot," the boy answered, his brown eyes quickly taking in our little group. "Jackal, Artemis."

I looked for Cat, but she had disappeared. Then I saw her, standing next to a dirty-blonde haired boy with an eyepatch. My guess was that he was Kid Blink. Very cute, I had to admit. To my surprise, I saw her laugh at something Kid Blink said and the next thing you know, Kid Blink had playfully kissed her on the cheek.

I wanted to watch more, but I was suddenly aware of Racetrack's eyes on me. I raised my eyebrowsinvoluntarilyand he then stood up, throwing away the cigar he was smoking. "You got a new newsie in Brooklyn, Spot? That's rare," he added, glancing at Spot and then to me, waiting for an introduction.

They were made, I said hi, he said hi, and all that stuff. Now that he was standing up, I could observe him better. He had brown eyes that seemed somehow both keen and soft at the same time. He was only a little over my height, so I guess he was short. He caught me analyzing him and gave me a sharp glance. I looked away.

"So, where's Jack?" Spot cut in smoothly.

"Back at the Lodgin' House, I think. He stole off some money and he got himself chased around. The guy chased him for nearly the whole mornin'. Persistant, don'tcha think? Anyways, Jack's jus' waitin' around to let things cool down before joinin' us."

"Jack got caught? Hmm, must be losin' his touch," Jackal put in. Spot gave him a look as if he didn't want Jackal in the conversation. Jackal grinned at him. I now understood what Milkshake had said about Jackal being the only newsie who openly took no notice of the respect needed for Spot.

"Well, see youse around," Spot said to Racetrack, but the other newsie shrugged.

"Nah, I'll come wit you. I need a little more money from my stash for one more round anyway," Racetrack said, his brown eyes twinkling at the newsies he was playing with. One of them rolled his eyes. He was a tall, lanky newsie with a glum expression on his face.

"Shuddup, Race, we ain't playin' wit a cheater again," he said, obviously in a bad mood. He nodded to Spot in a form of greeting.

"Naw, Race, you cheated again?" Artemis said in mock horror, while Jackal burst out laughing at Race's extremely-fakish hurt expression.

"Yore jus' a bad player, Skitts," Race shot back easily, as if he was used to this. Spot smacked him none too gently across the back of his head, a smirk on his face again. Race gave him an annoyed look, but Spot only laughed.

"Dat's what you say to any accusation against yore 'good luck', Race. But come on, if yore comin' along, we're goin' now. See ya, Skittery," Spot ended the conversation decisively.

Racetrack cheekily grinned at the scowling Skitts or Skittery or whatever his name was and we started for the Lodging House, which was nearby. I turned my head and looked for Cat and Kid Blink, but they were gone.

It was only a few steps to the Manhattan Lodging House and I found it not too different from the one at Brooklyn. We went up the stairs and entered the door on the left. Spot shut it as we went in.

There was a newsie lying on the bottom bunk of the bed near to our right. He had his arms crossed behind his back and he seemed to be dozing as his eyes were closed.

"Hey, Jackie-boy," Spot said, grinning as Jack started from his peaceful state. The other newsie leader got off his bunk smoothly and stood up. Hmm. You know, if newsie leaders all looked like this, I gotta get to know them better.

"What brings you to Brooklyn, Spot?" he asked, spit-shaking with him. Spot shrugged.

"Nothin' much, just wanted to settle matters with Sundance and Artemis here. I don't like havin' trouble between your newsies and mine."

"You don't say," Racetrack said sarcastically, as he playfully socked Artemis in the arm.

Artemis scowled and muttered to no one in particular that "It is _not_ such a big deal!" But she said it in such a low voice that I was sure Spot didn't notice.

"Oh yeah, Jackie-boy, dis is Ace," Spot said, surprising me. I didn't expect him to introduce me to him. There was a short second of silence, so I slowly spat in my hand and extended it for him. A smile spread across Jack's features as he spit-shaked back.

"Nice t'meetcha," he said politely. How charming.

"Same here," I replied, wiping my hand on my shirt while pretending to scratch the back of my neck as I grinned innocently at him. Yuck. He was about to say something when the door slammed open and slammed closed, admitting a dark-haired girl rushed in. I whirled around in surprise, succeeding in nearly stepping on Jack's foot.

"Ya know Jack, you really gotta tell-," she cut off short as she caught sight of us. Artemis stared coldly at her, but she didn't seem to notice or care.

"Hey, deserter," Spot said in a playful tone, making the girl smirk.

"I ain't a deserter, you know dat."

Spot laughed. "Why, you left your Spot for a mere Manhatanner, didn't ya, Sunny?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Skitts is _not_ a 'mere Manhatanner'."

"Yeah, he's a 'glum, stupid, and cranky, mere Manhatanner'," Racetrack piped up. The girl gave him a sarcastic smile and defended her boyfriend.

"Skittery's charmin', unlike a cheatin' gambler like yourself. Anyways, how long are you stayin' wit us, Spot?""

"Jus' as soon as I take care of some little problems you and Artemis caused," Spot said. The girl looked surprised and glanced at Artemis.

"What problems?"

"When you came over to Brooklyn and punched me in the face. When you accused me of stealing something you stole from someone else. Need I say more?" Artemis said scathingly. There was dead silence for a second, when Sundance burst out laughing.

"Deah me, Ise glad I left Brooklyn for Skitts! You guys hold grudges now? C'mon, dat was nearly a week ago!"

Artemis obviously seemed to not think it a big deal anymore. "Don't exaggerate."

"Alright, a few days den. Now, shuddup. What do you want us to do, Spot?" the girl snapped, a hard edge entering her voice. Artemis bristled, but Spot stopped her from doing anything rash with one warning look.

"Give back da money you stole from Midnight. So, how much didja steal from her?"

"A penny," the girls answered simultaneously. Smart.

Artemis and Sundance glanced at each other. Spot's serious face didn't change a bit.

"How much didja steal from her?" Spot repeated, his tone lowering dangerously. A laugh nearly escaped me at the two girl's embarrassed looks, but I stayed as quiet as I had been for the whole time here. Artemis sighed.

"A dime."

Spot stared hard at Artemis with icy blue eyes and then a shadow of a satisfied smile flickered across his face.

"Alrigh', den, Artemis, you give back 5 cents and Sundance, you give back 5 cents."

They both seemed unsatisfied with the solution Spot had given, but I have to admit Spot was both smart and fair.

"Doesn't matter how you give the money back, right, Spot?" I suddenly spoke up impulsively, surprising Spot.

"Yeah."

"If you guys are so unhappy about it, just stick it in Midnight's hat or bed or somewhere she's sure to find it. Spares you the embarrassment." I ended with a shrug.

"Good point, Ace," Artemis seemed to be relieved and I inwardly also felt relieved at the fact that the ice that had formed between us was starting to melt.

"Well, den, wese goin' back to Brooklyn. Come back when you give the money back. And if I find that-,"

"Alright, Spot, we got you," Artemis shot rebelliously, making Spot narrow his eyes at her.

"Ok, den," she said in a form of apologizing and then shot Sundance an exasperated look, which was returned. Jack, who had stayed quiet, broke the silence that was starting to stretch uncomfortably.

"Totally different subject, but tomorrow, Medda's havin' one of her parties. Wanna come?"

The mood brightened considerably. Medda seemed to be someone everyone was fond of.

"You can spend da night here if you want," Jack offered, but Spot declined.

"Ise can't spend da night here without me boys not knowin' about it. They'd also want to know about da party," Spot added with a wink. With that, the conversation ended. We said our good-byes to the Manhattaners and left.

No sooner than we went out of the room, I heard the girls debating on how to give the money back to Midnight. I noticed Spot being in a better mood. The whole situation had been amusing, but I had to admire Spot for the respect everyone had for him.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_** Not a very nice chapter in my opinion, not the best at least. But hopefully people will write nice reviews for me and make me happy. :D The next chapter'll probably involve A LOT of newsies, considering it's Medda's party. Don't know how soon I can put it up, but all I can say is that I'll try to put it up as fast as I can! :D

Anyway, here's my replies to my reviewers:

* * *

**Lehcar Sundance:** Well, you're in this story in latter parts! Hope I portrayed your character well, I might not have, since I was writing this in a little rushed way. Sundance will come out more later on!

**C.M. Higgins:** Thanks for your compliments! Sorry, not much of Milkshake in this chapter. I love Pike, too! Well, tell me what you think of this chapter, I hope it's not too bad.

**Shooter O'Brien:** Glad you like my story! Yeah, the whole Fire and Ace thing's probably going to dwindle out, but I don't know. I'll have to see how it goes. Thanks for reviewin'!

**Ccatt:** Sorry to keep you waiting so long, but here's the next chapter! Thanks for reviewing, I really appreciate it!

**Daydream:** Lots of Artemis in this one and Jackal's in some parts as well! I really love your characters, they just match my story so well. Lol, taken over the library computer? :D Sounds like fun…:P Anyway, hope you like this chapter, thanks for reviewing!

**Allaboutelephants22:** Sodapop's in this chapter only a little, but she'll come out more, maybe in the next one. Yes, I've picked a girl to be with Jack. Guess who? You're not exactly intimate with Jack right now, but you'll get together later on. That alright? Well, thanks for reviewing!

**Wisecracker88:** Sorry, Pithon's not in this chapter, but she will come out more. I like your suggestions, I just might use some of them! Also, they helped me with Pithon's character a lot, so thanks. Hope you liked this chappie!

**Keanne:** Lol, alrigh', this is the next part. I never knew there were so many newsies fans either before. Nice surprise, isn't it? I was overjoyed. :D


	5. Medda's Party

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**_Author's Note:_** Chapter 5's up! This one was fun to write. Kinda fluctuates from slow to fast to slow again. Blondie, Knots, and a couple of other newsies haven't come out yet, but they will come out, so pleeeease be patient.

**_Disclaimer:_** Ace, Fire, Blackie, Colt, Swiper, and Lil are mine. Everyone else belongs to Disney or the reviewers. Oh, there's something I want to ask you guys about the disclaimer, the question's at the last Author's Note. One more thing…one major thing…

MERRRRRRRYYY CHRISTMASSSS TOOO YOUUUU ALLLL!

* * *

We arrived at the party a little late, because Artemis and Jackal got into a little argument, but Spot didn't seem to mind much. 'Medda's Place' was a huge room, complete with a dance hall. The place was so crowded I instantly was separated from Spot. One group of newsies was on the stage, doing some sort of act at the urgings of another group. They were both probably drunk. Totally at loss at what to do, I simply sat down sideways on a random chair at a random table and looked helplessly around.

"Wanna join our game, Ace?"

I turned my head towards the speaker. It was Racetrack. Another glance informed me that Skittery and Kid Blink were sitting at the same table. Cat was also there, next to Kid Blink. I turned to face them properly, glad to see faces I knew.

"Sure. I heard you were good at poker," I paused for a second and looked at him. "Are you?"

Race only grinned back and took his cigar out of his mouth.

"Well, let's see, shall we?" he said in a way that showed how proud he was about his poker skills. I then and there decided I'd like to win this game.In fact, I was determined to win it. Race must be good if he was that confident and it had been a while since I played with some other guy (or girl) reknowned for gambling skills.Race started shuffling his cards professionally, smiling at me.

"I'll deal. Kid, you in?"

"Yep."

"Cat?"

"No."

"Skitts?"

"Alrigh'."

At that moment, Sundance appeared behind Skittery. She put her elbow on his shoulder and rested her head on her hand.

"I'm with Skitts," she said. I could swear I saw Skittery looked actually happy.

I got my cards and looked at them. Inwardly, I was jumping up and down in excitement at having such great cards, but I kept my face as straight as I could. I think when I do that it makes my face look lazy…Racetrack _was_ good, not a muscle in his face had moved the moment he saw his cards.

One round passed and, feeling reckless, I raised the bet a cent more. Racetrack's brown eyes flickered over to me for a second, but he complied and added his cent to the pot. Kid Blink folded with a regretful look.

Finally, to show our hands.

Skittery produced three tens, one two, and one five. He looked unsure whether he was going to win or not.

Me and Racetrack looked at each other.

"You first," I said.

"Naw, ladies are always first," Racetrack parried.

"Who made that stupid rule up?"

"Uh…I dunno. But someone did. Ain't I right, Kid?"

"Well, maybe in dis case, da ladies get to choose first," Kid Blink replied. Racetrack shot him a dirty look.

"Don't twist da words, Blink."

"I didn't!"

Seeing they might just get into a fight over such a little thing, I ended the argument.

"Alright, alright! I'll do it first."

I put out a five, six, seven, eight, and nine, all red hearts. A straight flush. Sundance whistled and I couldn't help but look challengingly at Racetrack. He had this strange expression on his face and I couldn't read whether it was one of surprise or one of triumph.

He then put his cards face up. It was a nine, ten, jack, queen, and king, all black spades. on the table. A royal flush.

I nearly choked, feeling a mixture of surprise, admiration, and, most of all, bitter disappointment. I couldn't believe it. Racetrack grinned at me friendlily and started collecting his winnings.

"Great game, Ace. Dat was pretty close. Couldn't beat me, though," he added playfully. He sure knew how to rub it in. Desperately trying not to look like I was very upset about losing, I gave a little shrug to show that it didn't bother me too much and smiled a smile that seemed fakish even to me.

"Maybe next time," I remarked in a carefree way. Man, I hate losing. Racetrack offered to play another game, but I declined. Everyone declined, actually, and Racetrack ended up going over to Jack's table.

Skitts stood up and, with Sundance, went out of the room to the warm night outside. Kid Blink got up as well, drew back Cat's chair, and gallantly offered her his arm, which Cat took with a barely perceptible smile. With a wave to me, Kid Blink led her away, looking for all the world like he was having a great time.

Therefore, I was just sitting at the table, alone, feeling totally bored, even if two newsies were having a rather violent fistfight behind me, or even if there was a couple kissing passionately in one corner of the room. Since I didn't want to be there for the whole night, I stood up and started walking around, in hopes of seeing a familiar face. I had barely taken two steps when someone hit into me from behind.

My hands flew out to stop myself from hitting the ground, but it was too late. I fell so hard that I couldn't breath for what seemed like forever. I lay there for a long moment, wondering who had hit me and what I would do to whoever had bumped against me and why he had bumped into me so hard and why I had come to this stupid party in the first place.

I got up the moment I got my breath back and turned around with an angry look. A girl with a hand over her mouth as if surprised at having done such a thing was standing in front of me. Before I could utter a single furious word, she spoke first.

"Sorry, I didn't see you dere," she apologized so sincerely and so simply that my sudden bad temper melted away. I stared at her coldly and ran a hand through my hair. I heaved a sigh, trying to stay mad, but not succeeding at all.

"Whatever," I muttered finally and was about to walk away when she extended her hand with a smile.

"I'm Shooter," she introduced herself. I hesitated for a second and then accepted her hand of friendship.

"Ace." I took a closer look at her. The first thing I noticed about her was the scar above her left eye. It gave her a bold and outgoing look which seemed to match her perfectly.

"So, havin' fun?" Shooter asked as she smoothly moved to one side to let some newsies who were running wildly around to go past her.

"Well, if you count losing in a poker game, meandering around in a place where you have no clue who is who, and getting knocked down by a certain girl as fun, yeah, I guess so," I replied sarcastically. Shooter smirked.

"I can tell you're enjoyin' yourself."

"Glad you noticed." A smile was forcing itself onto my face. Argh. I could never stay angry for long, especially when I was talking to someone like Shooter.

"Well, if-," Shooter stopped in mid-sentence as she caught a sight of a tall boy coming inside. "Oooh, wait a sec, Professor's ovah dere. Come along if you want."

A little surprised at the abrupt ending of our conversation, I figured there was nothing else to do, so I walked beside her to the boy, who looked every inch of his name, from his intelligent blue eyes that twinkled at Shooter from behind glasses to the serious and dignified way he seemed to carry himself.

"What took you so long?" Shooter asked, slipping an arm through Professor's.

"There was some fighting outside and they wanted me to fix some kid up," Professor answered, a strange accent I couldn't place in his quiet voice. Um…it sounded German.

"Hey, Ace!"

It was Milkshake. She was standing next to a red-haired woman, who was being cast loving glances by the boys around her.

"Um…sorry, Milkshake's callin' me. I'll see if I can find you both later. Nice meeting you both."

Shooter didn't seem to mind the way I had suddenly departed her, since she only nodded and waved a careless hand, as if she was distracted. Probably by the boy next to her.

I started towards her and then noticed a small girl staring at me. I kept walking.

"Are you from Brooklyn?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. I glanced at her. She was around 8 or 9 years old, with brown hair and eyes. I wondered why such a small kid was doing here.

"Yes," I replied. She stopped me by tugging on my hand.

"Can we be friends?"

I resisted a "No," and walked over to Milkshake and the red-haired lady.

"You called?" I smiled in a strained way.

"What's your name?" asked Annoying Little Kid.

"Yeah, I did, I'd like you to meet-," Milkshake was cut off as Annoying Little Kid tugged on my hand and asked me another question.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 17, now buzz off," I muttered. I didn't mind kids, but not annoying ones. The red-haired lady shot me a disapproving glance while Milkshake gave the kid the scariest glare I've ever seen in my life.

"Lil, I want to talk to Ace now. Will you go off and check up on your older brother?" Milkshake gritted out. Lil nodded cheerfully and walked off. I sighed with relief. That had been one freaky kid.

"Thank you so much," I said in an exasperated tone. The lady smiled at both of us.

"So, Milkshake, who is this new friend of yours?"

"Dis is Ace. Just joined our borough. Ace, dis is Medda Larkson. Medda's a great friend of the newsies," she added.

I noticed a lot of staring eyes as I shook hands with the red-haired lady. Obviously, they were staring at Medda and not me. Small wonder, considering just how gorgeous Medda was.

"Nice to meet you, Ace," Medda said, still smiling. I smiled back, but didn't say anything. Milkshake chatted with Medda for a while about the party and then Medda excused herself, saying she had to take care of some things and would be back after a while.

"Hey look, there's Blackie and Colt! Looks like they're startin' to play poker again." She looked at me. "Why don't you play? I've played enough today. And lost enough."

I shrugged. "Well, I don't exactly want to."

"Aw, come on, Colt'll love ya." Then she noticed a broad-shouldered boy who stood probably over six feet tall join the game. "Just ignore Swiper."

"Why, what's wrong with Swiper?"

"He's a real nasty with a temper to match. He hates Spot for some reason. But whatever. So, are you going to play?"

"Oh, alright. You've talked me into it."

Blackie was from Bowery, probably named Blackie because of his jet black hair and black eyes. Colt, a skinny and lanky newsie with dirty blonde hair that seemed to keep getting into his green eyes, was friendly enough. He had a grin that was nearly as cute as Kid Blink's. Probably from Queens. Swiper was a different matter altogether. He was…well, I just didn't like the look of him. Maybe it was because of what Milkshake told me.

As I got my cards, someone dragged a chair over and slid into it right next to me. I shot the person a sidelong glance to find it was Spot. No way! How was I supposed to play well when Spot was sitting there? He winked at me casually. Well, I'm so glad to know _he _was enjoying himself. Swiper pointedly ignored Spot.

"Hello, Spot," Blackie said quietly. "Wish t'join?"

Spot shook his head and peered over my shoulder to see my cards. "Think I'll watch."

Everything was going pretty well. We were drawing quite a crowd. Racetrack, Jack, and Kid Blink was there. Racetrack had wanted to play, but since we were in the middle of the game, Colt told him that he couldn't. Some girls I knew were there as well, along with some guys, like Jackal and Pithon. I was starting to have fun until Swiper suddenly raised the bet by three dimes.

This was way too weird. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. While Blackie was taking a card out of the deck, Swiper bent over to scratch his leg…Aha. I saw a corner of a card in his hand as he put his hand back up to his cards. Evidently cheating.

Cheaters always got me annoyed. I mean, why play at all if you're bad at the game? There's no fun in playing poker by cheating. I looked a little closer. Yup. It was a card in his hand. Suddenly, Swiper noticed me watching him.

"What's with you?" Swiper asked rudely. I smiled at him innocently as I put my cards face down onto the table.

"You're foldin'?" he asked, a trace of surprise in his voice as he looked at me sharply with his sly, ferret-like eyes.

"Well, you might say that. Except I'll be getting my money back." I started taking one dime from the pile of money when Swiper's hand shot out to grab my wrist. I knew he would only tighten his hand if I tried to pull back so I didn't move. Blackie and Colt had lowered their cards. Spot narrowed his blue eyes, as if he sensed trouble. Hah. Of course there was going to be trouble.

"You can't take back your money. Either fold or keep playin'," Swiper growled. I felt myself flush red in anger.

"I don't play with cheaters," I snapped and impulsively snatched my money up from the pile with my other hand. The look on Swiper's face was thunderous.

"Who're you callin' cheater, you lyin'-"

"Liar yourself. You took a card from your leg. I. Saw. You. Now, if you'll excuse me," I stood up to leave, but Swiper didn't let my hand go.

"Ain't dis the third time you was caught in da act?" Racetrack remarked from where he was sitting, a pitying smile on his face.

"Shut it, Race," Swiper growled.

"Deah me, what a tempah," laughed irrepressible Racetrack. Spot had not moved a muscle, his eyes were still cold and watchful.

"I'm not going to play anymore. Get that into your thick head. So let go."

Swiper's blue eyes met my brown mockingly, as if he was challenging me to make him. Spot wordlessly drew out his cane and started tapping it on the table. Well, I didn't want him to help me again this time. But…great, this was one of the drawbacks of being a newsie. We had to fight numerous times. And fighting was something I was not particularly good or fond of. I usually lost because I wasn't cut out for fighting.

Swiper's grip around my wrist tightened when I tried to pull back and I winced. Thinking quickly, I forcibly drove my elbow right down into the middle of his arm. Must have hurt a lot, because he yelped in pain. I wrenched my wrist away and took a step backwards to put some distance between me and Swiper, but he was pretty fast. He suddenly overturned the table and I jumped backwards, surprised. I tripped over my chair, regained my balance, then lost it again as I tripped over someone's foot.

In the end I ended up crashing into the table behind me, knocking the drinks and the food into the newsies who were eating them and basically causing chaos. What was worse, the edge of the table had jabbed into my side pretty hard. I could already imagine the big bruise that was gonna form. I grimaced, fondling my arm. My poor wrist!

"Woah now, Swipes, you never lose yoah temper in front of a lady," Jack said warningly.

"No, you never lose yoah temper in front of a lady in front of other newsies like me," Jackal growled. Swiper didn't pay any attention to both of them and took a step towards me.

I was furious. Honestly, the guy was overreacting! But before I could charge or before Swiper could upturn another table again because he was going crazy over a stupid poker game, Spot spoke up from behind Swiper.

"Sit down, Swipes," Spot said casually, but nearly everyone in the room, especially the Brooklynites, could recognize the coldness edging his voice. Swiper glared at Spot and stubbornly stayed where he was. Spot then simply grabbed the back of the rebellious newsie's shirt and dragged him down onto the chair behind him. We all saw the hate-laden stare Swiper gave Spot, who leaned forward in his chair, his cane on the ground as his chin on his hands, which were on the cane.

"Ace-," he was cut off as Swiper suddenly tackled him from behind. There was an audible gasp from those watching. Swiper was in for it.

Spot hit the ground with Swiper on top of him, but he quickly rolled over to solidly punch Swiper in the jaw with his right fist. A left hook split Swiper's lip and it started bleeding. The force of the two blows sent Swiper staggered backwards and Spot sprang up, a strange smile on his lips as he stepped lightly to one side as Swiper threw a punch at him.

"Well, now, Swipes, I've always known you didn't like me, but never thought you'd work up da guts to challenge me." All the while he kept dodging Swiper's blows, which were starting to get unfocused and clumsy.

It was easy to see who had the upper hand in the fight. Although Swiper was the bigger and heftier of the two, Spot moved easily and quickly with natural skill. He landed punch after punch, driving Swiper back until the other boy had his back against the wall. Spot was having fun, I could tell. Swiper was thoroughly beaten. It all happened so fast and was happening so fast that I was sure Swiper was taken aback by the ferocity of Spot's attack. Spot was one fast fighter and Swiper was no match for him.

The next thing you know, the watchful silence was broken by an angry scream in a high-pitched voice I knew all too well.

Lil dashed out and started hitting Spot with her small fists. I nearly laughed aloud at the uncomfortable look on poor Spot's face, but I stopped myself just in time. Snorts of laughter could be heard from Racetrack and some other newsies. Even Cat was grinning at the predicament Spot had himself in.

"Leave Swipey alone or I'll soak ya!" Lil shrieked angrily. Spot's mouth twitched and then burst out laughing. Swiper went red with embarrassment.

"That's really funny, Swipes. Your little sister's savin' you from a good beatin'." Spot bent down and caught Lil's flailing fists with his hands. "You're a great sister for Swipes, Lil me darlin'."

Lil probably had a lot of mood swings, because she stopped and grinned at Spot's compliment. Spot could charm a bird out of its nest. Swiper sank down into a nearby chair and looked like he was witnessing his worst nightmare. I thought it was hilarious.

Spot rubbed one fist and smirked at Swiper, who was thoroughly defeated and humiliated. The whole thing ended just as quickly as it had started as the tense atmosphere had been broken by Lil's dramatic entrance. The newsies started to continue whatever they had stopped doing to watch the fight. The table was set up again and the newsies started talking as if nothing had happened. Swiper had slunk off somewhere to sulk, which was a relief.

I sat at a table with Artemis, Pithon, Sundance, and Milkshake. Artemis had a distracted look on her face, while Sundance and Milkshake were talking. She looked up as I came over.

"So, wanna play again, Ace?" she asked as she casually slipped one hand into Sundance's pocket and drew out a packet that was probably his wallet. I stifled a laugh as the poor girl didn't notice a thing.

"Not really," I replied as Pithon gave me a root beer. "Thanks."

"Why not?" Pithon asked. Before I could answer, someone interrupted me.

"Hiya, ladies, are we allowed to join?" Pike asked friendlily. Jackal was right next to him, his dark hair nearly loose from its ponytail.

"No," Milkshake answered quickly, but they sat down anyway. Despite her words, or word, to be exact, I noticed that Milkshake's eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary on Pike. When Pike looked at her, she would look away. Yup. There was no doubt about it. Milkshake liked Pike but she seemed reluctant to show it.

Aw. That was so cute. I decided to do something about it.

"Quite an excitin' party, ain't it, miss?" Jackal said in a pseudo British accent, which was quite horrible.

"Excitin's da word for it. And knock off da accent, sounds like a frog tryin' t'speak Chinese," Artemis muttered as she proceeded to slip a hand this time into Jackal's pocket. Jackal placed a hand over his heart dramatically.

"Alas, Arty has hoit me feelin's again," he said, making Milkshake snicker. Artemis succeeded in stealing something from Jackal. I couldn't tell what it was.

"Alas, Jackal's actin' like an idiot again," she shot back, but there was a smile on her face now.

"What cold words, Arty!"

"Hey, I have one question. Would you like me to call you Kal? Al? Or Ack? Stop callin' me Arty!"

"It's a good thing you kept your cool back dere," Pike said to me while Artemis and Jackal continued to have tease each other. I shrugged.

"Swiper was just cheating. That's all. He just made it into a big deal," I answered. Pike laughed as he raised my hand and kissed it playfully.

"You certainly have a way with makin' everythin' seem like a joke, sweetheart."

I blushed and jerked my hand back. Fortunately, Milkshake had not seen as she was playing a card game with Pithon and Sundance. I had a feeling she wouldn't really to have seen it and I definitely did not want her as an enemy. Pike was looking surprised, so I explained.

"Listen, Pike, I don't mind you kissin' my hand, because you're absolutely charming, but I don't think Milkshake would, so be a little less flirty."

He was taken aback and this time looked puzzled. "Why Milkshake?"

I gave him a 'duh' look. "Come on, can't you tell she likes you? A lot?"

He stared at me. I stared back. He started laughing, but quietly enough so as to not attract attention.

"Milkshake? I don't think so!" he said incredulously, still laughing.

"Shows just how much you haven't noticed."

"How come she never shows it den? Or tell me?"

"Honestly, can you imagine Milkshake showing that she likes you, let alone telling you?"

"Uh…no." He was completely clueless. Guys.

"Be a little nicer to her and I bet she'll appreciate it."

Pike gave me a strange look, as if he didn't think so. "Anyone would appreciate it."

"Not like Milkshake would. She really likes you, you know."

"I still don't think so. How would you know?" I sighed and shrugged again.

"Your choice. Like I said, Milkshake'll appreciate it. It's none of my business, of course," I added airily and broke off the conversation by leaving the table. Pike looked lost.

The room was way too crowded and hot and it was making me feel stifled. I quickly looked around and quietly slipped outside. I wanted Pike to figure it out himself, since it really was his choice.

I hadn't noticed just how late it was. The night was refreshingly cool and I leaned against the wall in relief. I closed my eyes and rubbed my still-aching wrist. Peace at last. It had been a very trying evening.

"Hey Ace," said a voice on my left.

I jumped in surprise, but I recognized who the speaker was. I opened my eyes, but didn't move from my position.

"Hello, Spot," I replied.

He leaned back against the wall as well and we were silent for most of the time, until I spoke.

"Hey Spot, thanks for what you did back there. Didn't mean it to get into such a fight."

I could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. "I have to keep gettin' you out of trouble, don't I?"

I would normally have felt irritated, but he was only teasing me. I didn't say anything I would have regretted.

"It was amusin', actually," he said after a while.

I smirked. "It was. I thought I'd die laughing when I saw Lil pummelin' you." I was rather surprised that Spot wasn't acting too high-and-mighty. A lot of newsies began to stream out, most of them still drunk. I picked out Shooter and Professor among them, one of the few who were sober.

"Tired enough to call it a night?" he asked, shifting from his position to look at me.

"Yup."

He grinned and did his mock bow again, except it didn't seem as insulting as it had been yesterday. He then offered me his arm to escort me into the room. I was surprised again. He was actually acting like a gentleman! I hesitated though, but figured it was just a playful joke so I played along by doing an elaborate curtsy and accepting his arm. Thankfully, no one was alert enough to notice us going inside together.

Only the Manhattaners and the Brooklynites were here now. The party was dying down.

Spot went over to Medda, informed her that the Brooklynites were leaving, thanked her, and then started out. A few newsies were even sleeping in their chairs with their heads on the tables; they were that zonked out.

Still with my arm around Spot's, I searched for Pike. He was nervously doing the same thing Spot was doing to me: offering his arm, except it was to Milkshake. Milkshake stared at him for a second, somewhat suspiciously, and then, smiling, accepted it. Pike then looked up and saw me. I winked and he grinned back.

It was a great ending for the party and kinda felt nice to have done something right for once.

* * *

Author's Note: What did you think? Hey, now that I think of it, this is 12 pages long! Wow. Cts (change of subject), but I watched "Newsies" the other day with my friend and man, they're so cute. It kinda renewed my eagerness to continue writing this chapter. Oh yes, about the disclaimer. Do you want me to write down who belongs to who? If you do, please tell me and I'll start doing so from the next chapter. Alrighty? Well, hope you liked this chapter! It's sort of like my Christmas 'present' to you guys, since I updated it today.

Okay! Now, for my replies:

Pmochizuki: Hiya! Thanks for reviewin' as always, Merry Christmas to you! Yeah, the little 'tiff' was just made up as I was writing. I think I get what you mean about Kid Blink kissing you indirectly through Cat! Lol, Kid Blink was cute when we watched "Newsies" again, wasn't he? And Race, and Spot, and Skitts, and…yeah. :D I would tell you who Ace is going to be hooked up with, but other people are reading this and you know anyway. :D Well, thanks for reviewing again!

Lehcar Sundance: Yup, it's you and cute Skitts! I like him a lot, actually. I thought it would be interesting to have a little fight between you and Artemis, 'cos I like both characters and wanted to use 'em. Merry Christmas to you!

Daydream1: Haha, I love readin' your reviews. Yay, you sent me newsies to comfort me in my time of despaaaair, joy! Actually, it's winter vacation now so I get to do fanfiction full time! (dances around the room with Daydream and Racetrack) Glad you like the way I wrote Artemis and Jackal, I had so much fun writing them. Hope you like this chappie! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Ccatt: Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy reading this chapter! A virtual Christmas 'present' to you and everyone else. :D Glad you're likin' this story!

Allaboutelephants22: Hiya! Cool, glad I updated the chapter at that moment then! I also love it when chapters come up just when you're having a horrible day. Sorry this took so long, but I hope you'll like this chappie anyway! Merrrrrryyyy Christmas!

Knots: Yay, you're going to be reviewin'! I love reviews. (well…who doesn't?) I don't think you've sent me a character yet, but you can e-mail it to me. My e-mail's in my profile, 'kiday? Thanks for reviewin' and Merry Christmas to you!

C.M. Higgins: Hiya! I had a little romance between Pike and Milkshake, I hope you like it! Never really wrote a romance before, no matter how small it is, so I'm pretty worried whether it would be alright or not. :D Thanks for reviewing! Merry Christmas with Racetrack in a Santa Clause suit to you! Lol, no clue where that came from. Well, thanks again!

Outsider Wolf: Yay, new reviewer! Lol, yup, I won't answer that question yet, though you probably can figure it out soon. Btw, cool name. :D Well, Merry Christmas! Thanks for reviewing!

Wisecracker88: Sorry, there hasn't been much of Pithon recently, but I SHALL use her more! At least, I shall try my best. Glad you liked that chapter, it was needed for a little character development. (wow, that is such an un-me-ish thing to say…) Well, hope you like this chapter as well, thank for reviewing, and Merry Christmas!


	6. A Little Dunking

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**_Author's Note:_** Woah now…how long has it been? Errr…near TWO months! OH THE SHOCK! OH THE HORROR! How eeeeevil of me. (packs all of her belongings and travels to the North Pole in shame) Well, this chapter I updated in a hurry, since it was just taking too long. Not too good a chapter, it's one of them chapters that help with other chappies. Well, hope you read anyway and review!

**_Disclaimer:_** Ace and Fire are moi's. Everyone else is not moi's.

**Author's Note: **I'm popping up once again, but I just HAD to tell you guys a little trivia. My friends reading this knows already, but for you other reviewers! (You guys ARE my friends, but, y'know, I've never seen you all and stuff) Do you remember that mother in Newsies, the mother of David? I forgot her name…but anyway, SHE? She is married to none other than Hugh Jackman! (AKA Wolverine in X-Men, Van Helsing in…Van Helsing, and Leopold in Kate and Leopold, etc.) Cool huh?

Well, I'll let you read now. Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey! Where's my shirt? ARTEMIS!" 

I vaguely heard a thump as Artemis threw her pillow bad-temperedly at the speaker. Pithon always woke up earlier than the others. That is, excluding Cat, who woke up at an abnormal time.

"Shut up and let me sleep. Got a little more time."

"If you stole it-"

"I. Did. Not."

"Milkshake, do you know where it went?"

"What…" Milkshake's groggy voice didn't sound very happy.

"My shirt!"

"What shirt?"

"Hello? Shirt? Da one Spot lent me? Da one he _always_ lends me? Have you gone wrong in da head?" Pithon didn't sound very happy either.

"Hey, don't get mad at me, it's not my fault you lost your stupid shirt!"

"A few certain people are _trying_ to get some sleep, you know," mumbled Stargazer's voice from where she was lying on the top bunk nearby. There was a pause and then Pithon started in a fierce whisper.

"It ain't _my_ stupid shirt. It's _Spot's_."

"None of my business. You lost it, you find it."

"Easy for you to-HEY!" Pithon didn't even bother to whisper. "_Look who's sittin' on it._"

"Well, whaddaya know."

"Ha-ha-ha." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"SHUT YOAH MOUTHS NOW!" shouted Artemis, but they were too mad at each other to pay any attention to her.

"Listen, why would I take-Hey, dat hurt! You didn't have ta do dat!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you whinin' excuse for an idiot," was Milkshake's hot retort, getting insulting as she always did when mad. Actually, the insult wasn't true. Pithon never whined and she certainly wasn't an idiot.

Pithon shot back another insult, something about comparing Milkshake's head to a blob of goo. Pithon always came up with weird original insults that made no sense but were extremely insulting.

Sounds of Pithon tackling Milkshake reached my ears. Another fight Milkshake had gotten herself into. I groaned and wrapped my blanket around my head, trying to keep out the noise. It didn't do any good, considering it was of a thin material. Argh.

After a while, Pithon and Milkshake stopped fighting. Milkshake was grumbling and muttering under her breath. Pithon shot her dirty looks and shrugged on the shirt that had been the object of their fight.

Groaning again, I forced myself to sit up in bed and involuntarily shivered. The day was much colder than yesterday. I lowered myself down onto the floor, grabbing my hat from the bunk post as I did.

Going over to the washroom, I splashed water onto face and wiped the water off with my sleeve. I glanced at myself in the mirror. Well, I certainly got leaner and looked tougher than a week ago. Brushing back a strand of dark hair from my face, I adjusted the faded-green bandana around my neck and grinned mischievously at my reflection. If any of the mistresses at the orphanage saw me and the state I was in, they'd start falling over each other to 'fix' me.

It was now a week after Medda's party. Not all the newsies have accepted me as part of the group yet, but most of the girls seem to have gotten used to me. Artemis, at least, was much better than she had been the first time we met. Cat was the same as ever: silent, watchful, and measuring. She had barely spoken two words to me. The rest were quite the same, just they weren't as tense as they used to be around me. I took it as a good sign.

Spot…well, Spot continued to get me irritated at times. I didn't know what to think of him. He was arrogant, but admirable, irritating, but suddenly kind. He seemed to have a double personality or something. When I asked Milkshake just what kind of a person he was, she just shrugged and didn't answer. He was slightly enigmatic, I suppose. And grr, that confused me.

For some reason, the price for the newspapers today was higher than usual. Some of the newsies grumbled and seemed rebellious, but when Spot slammed down the money on the counter, everyone followed in suit. I wasn't too bad off, so I also paid up. Why was the price upped? I saw Spot stalk away quickly, an unreadable expression on his face. Soon enough, we all scattered to our respective selling spots.

The headline was really bad. It was so dumb. Unbelievably stupid. I had to think for quite a long time on what to say, thus wasting time. Honestly, who would want to read about how some cows got a disease?

"Millions Die From Horrible Plague!" I shouted finally and successfully sold a few papes.

The rest of the morning was spent changing headlines so much until it turned into a totally different story all together. Going pretty well, actually. But what was so annoying was that no one would come to get my _last_ pape. Practically dancing with impatience, I shouted repeatedly the same thing.

"No one's gonna come buy a pape from a newsie with an expression like dat," said a voice abruptly. I stopped and wished I was thousands of miles away. I knew that voice.

Fire was standing there, a crooked smile on his face. His words surprised me though. I had thought he would say something a little more…nasty. I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"What's it to you?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Nuthin'," was his intelligent reply.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, me trying to sell while watching him suspiciously out of the corner of my eye and Fire fiddling with something at his pocket.

"Listen, what do you want?" I asked sharply, irritated with the fact that he was just there without doing anything and also the fact that I still couldn't sell anything.

"Nuthin'," he said again. With that, he walked off. I stared after him, confused and utterly not happy with whatever he had been up to. That was certainly a strange conversation, if you called it that. I had been avoiding Fire and I think he was avoiding me as well. Spot had been very clear what he would do if we got into another fight. Strange really, why Fire had suddenly acted civil for a second.

I shrugged to myself. Back to the problem of my last pape.

"DEATH AND MURDER!" I shouted recklessly, finding no other words. Surprisingly enough, someone came by and bought it. Grinning triumphantly to myself, I walked slipped my hands into my pockets to warm them and walked over to the docks, where I knew the others would probably be at.

They were and some of them were actually _swimming_ in the water. I didn't need to find out for myself whether the water was icy cold or not. It was obvious. Others were just hanging around, talking and playing games. Giving the swimmers a skeptical look, I sat on the ground and dangled my legs over the water. I took a little break there, just watching the swimming newsies.

"Feel good?" I asked after a while with a wry smile.

"Wanna join us?" answered Pilot, returning my smile with a smirk.

I scrambled up quickly to stand and looked at him warily. "NO thanks." So much for my break. He laughed and flicked some water at me. I jumped backwards and walked a safe distance away, sticking a tongue out at him childishly.

Spot was sitting nearby, perched on top of a few crates. I looked at him just in time to see him let fly something small at a few bottles from his slingshot. The stone or marble or whatever it was hit into one of the bottles, shattering it neatly. He quickly followed it with three more in quick succession, shattering other targets with perfect aim.

He was pretty good. The thought quickly escaped my mind however, when Spot glanced at me and tipped his hat with a slow smile, his slingshot still in his hand. Show off. I rolled my eyes at him and turned away to join Milkshake and Stargazer nearby.

"Sell good?" Stargazer asked somewhat absentmindedly.

"No," I replied frankly, watching as Jackal pulled himself out of the water and used the advantage of his height to purposely drip water all over a sitting Artemis.

"There's a strike goin' on, y'know," Milkshake said suddenly. There was a surprised yelp and then a loud splash as Artemis carelessly pushed Jackal into the water with a smirk.

"Yeah?" I asked, not believing Milkshake. A strike? If there was a strike, it would be all over the papers. Anyway, what problems were there now about strikes?

"Yeah. Sparrow told us. Aftah he told Spot, of course."

Sparrow was one of Spot's, well, spies, if you must use the fancy word. Same as Cat, he brought news about what was happening in New York to Spot. He and Cat were the two newsies Spot trusted completely.

"Really now?" I still didn't believe her. "Who's striking?"

"Da newsies in Man'attan," Stargazer interrupted calmly, seeming to realize what we were talking about.

I snorted. "Yeah, right," I said, this time not disguising my disbelief. Stargazer shrugged.

"Don't believe me? Well, go ask da Jackie-boy ovah dere." She gave a short jerk with her chin, indicating to the spot behind me. I half-turned to see what she meant.

Jack? What was he doing here? Behind him were two other newsies. One was a small black boy while the other was a serious-looking boy with curly hair.

To my disgust, I saw Fire haul himself up from the water and confront Jack.

"Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" he sneered. I only recently had found out that Fire and Jack weren't in very 'good terms' because they got into a fight over a simple poker game. Jack, for your information, won the fight, but only barely. Fire, being the grudge-bearing pig he was, naturally hated his guts.

Jack only gave him a cold, level stare and then pushed past him contemptuously. The other two followed wordlessly, the curly-haired boy taking a quick wary glance at all the watching Brooklynites.

Ignoring the way Fire was glaring murderously at his back, Jack went straight up to Spot without a word of greeting to any of us. Alright, so they _were_ having a strike. That was the only reason why Jack's usually good-natured face looked so serious.

Stargazer gave me a 'See?' look as Jack and the other two started talking with Spot. To my surprise, I saw an expression of annoyance and frustration fleet past Jack's face as Spot made some kind of reply. I was too far away to hear what they were talking about, but I could tell that whatever Spot had said wasn't what Jack had expected him to say.

Jack and the curly-headed boy talked furiously for a second with Spot, but he gave them a short reply and decidedly ended the conversation by giving them a jerk of his head, indicating that they go back.

The three glanced at each other as Spot climbed back to his position on the crates and then Jack gave sharp shrug and they all left. We all watched them leave, a lot of the Brooklynites' gazes hostile. It was probably because the Manhattaners had disagreed with Spot.

Spot had a slight frown on his face as the Manhattaners left, but it disappeared quickly and he resumed destroying bottles again. I felt a mixture of curiosity and reluctance; Curiosity of what had happened, reluctance at approaching Spot on something he _might_ get mad at.

Curiosity won as it always did. I casually walked away from Pithon and Stargazer, my hands still in my pockets. I was aware of two of them whispering to me to get back, that this was no time to talk to him, but I ignored them. Anyway, why shouldn't I talk to Spot?

"Hey Spot," I greeted cordially, leaning against a nearby post.

"Hey," he answered without meeting my gaze. I picked up a small rock and tossed it from one hand to another.

"So. What were they doin' here?" I started, still playing with the rock.

"I think you figured dat out already," was the smooth reply. He shifted slightly and then returned to his former position again.

"Let me rephrase it then. What did they say?"

"Ya need to know?" There was a slight undercurrent of a threat in his voice so I backed up in my questioning a little. Remembering all the tricks I had used on the mistresses back at the orphanages when wanting to find information, I returned to my casual approach.

"Just wondering," I answered lightly, starting catching my rock with just one hand. "Something must have happened to get Jack look so irritated."

Silence.

Come on…

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spot glance down at me and then smirk. "You're pretty good, y'know dat?"

Great.

I gave up all hope and threw the rock as far as I could over the water. "Alright, alright. You aren't gonna tell me." I wondered whether there would ever be a time when Spot would ever get tricked. He'd outsmarted me two times already now.

"On da contrary, I think I'll tell you," he said, using his slingshot to shoot his marble farther over the water than mine. I couldn't help but grin to myself. I remained where I was, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, Jackie-boy asked me t'join da strike."

My grin disappeared and a frown took its place. I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"An' I said no."

I made sure that I kept my face expressionless, although inside I felt like strangling Spot and forcing him to tell me more. Huh, a lot of good _that_ would do.

"Why?" I asked carefully, picking up another rock again.

"Dis ain't some kind of game. Jack's gonna have the responsibility of every strikin' newsie in New York, an' if he ain't serious enough, he's not gonna pull through."

"Yeah?"

"And if he don't pull through, every newsie who's with him'll have t'pay. Ise not takin' da risk."

To tell the truth, I utterly disagreed with Spot. Jack didn't strike me as someone who didn't take things seriously.

"So you aren't going to help him." I stated more than asked, not able to completely disguise the contempt in my voice. He was just going to abandon Jack and the others? Just like that?

"If you're gonna put it like dat, yeah, I ain't gonna join da strike." He paused and then shrugged. "Ya wouldn't undahstand," he added coolly. I bristled, stung by the remark.

"Understand? I think I understand fully well," I snapped and then quickly shut my mouth before I said anything I would regret. Spot's eyes turned into icy slits of blue as he easily caught the implied meaning.

"You bettah watch what you say," he said in a familiar quiet tone I had learned to watch out for.

"I only said that I understand why you aren't gonna help," I repeated anyway, irritated. Why? Why not help Jack? A strike; it'd be better for all of us if it worked.

There was tense silence between us and then Spot jumped down from the crates with a light _thump_. He faced me off, not looking exactly angry, but strangely cold and unfeeling. I looked down at the ground, furiously trying to get a control of myself and knowing I was dangerously treading a thin line of Spot's temper that could snap at any minute. He drew his cane out and lifted my chin up with its end.

"Think for one second dat I'm a coward an' you'll find dat you're dead wrong," he said in a low tone. "Ya hear me?"

I jerked my face away from the cane, annoyed at his superior treatment. "I must admit that that thought has crossed my mind," I shot back hotly, losing control of my tongue again. Then I stared at him as realization of what I just said came to me.

"I…I mean…," I tried to find a way to take back my words but the damage was done. I blew it. I bit my lip and took a deep breath as I took an unconscious step backwards from Spot. I waited for him to kick me out of Brooklyn or do something equally worse.

Spot continued to stare coolly down at me for a second. "You still haven't answered my question."

I looked away, frowning slightly. Then I looked down and then back up at Spot.

"Yeah, I heard you," I answered quietly. Spot still looked tense.

"If you was a boy, I'd be beatin' da life outta you right now."

"Well, I guess I'm glad I'm not a boy then," I replied neutrally, knowing it was neither an insult nor something to say after smart mouthing someone like Spot. He just looked at me and then turned to walk to the platform that Jack and the two other newsies had just passed in a hurry.

He then beckoned me to come over. I blinked and then looked at him warily. Better do what he said. I had gotten myself into trouble already once, I wasn't about to do it again. I went over.

Maybe he was just going to let it go?

Nah.

But he wasn't doing anything. He looked almost un-angry!

I glanced at him. He was smirking.

Uh oh…not good.

Before I could react, he suddenly spoke.

"Listen, Ace…I'm a leader. I have my reasons, though you may be blind enough t'not see it."

I bristled, "I _know _that, Spot."

"Don't you evah make dat same mistake again."

"What mistake?" I tried to feign indifference with a confused look.

"I ain't gonna repeat myself."

Before I knew what was going on, Spot took my arms, smiled benevolently, and gently pushed me into the water.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Not my best, but…ah well. I had to update as soon as I can. Hope it wasn't too bad! By the way, totally irrevelant subject: Phantom of the Opera is one of the best movies I've ever seen. Those who haven't watched, you got to watch it! (My favorite actor has changed, because of it, to Gerard Butler now. Phantom…ahhh! Used to like Sean Bean a lot and also Hugh Jackman sort of. But Gerard Butler is me fave now.)

Thank you to all the reviews...you guys are all great! All your comments are really helping me out. Thanks so much. :)


	7. The Streets of New York

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know…so long. Definitely my longest absence. I apologize! Well, this chapter was ok, it was fun to write. You know, I was reading my story over again and instantly wanted to change so many parts. I think I might go over it again and edit.

**Disclaimer: **Not going to write this. Not...not...

Well, hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"Billionaire jumps to his death! Read all about his exhilarating jump from the top of the building to the ground!"

I half-heartedly waved a 'pape' in the air for the millionth time, knowing I was being horribly sarcastic. A young couple cast me an odd glance and I returned it with a bad-tempered glare, giving them my best impression of the 'get out of my life' look without looking like a spoiled brat.

Okay, so selling the newspapers today was not going very well. I really wasn't in a mood to care. I scowled darkly and leaned against the big oak tree growing at the side of the bustling street. A chilly breeze sent a shiver through my still-damp clothes and it did nothing to help my irritation as my thoughts continued to keep returning to what had happened yesterday. I stiffened as I felt indignation mix with that irritation.

He didn't _have_ to do what he did. He could have just told me off and then let it go as that. But _nooo_, he had to push me into water, which, ever so conveniently, was freezing cold. On top of that, I panicked, because I couldn't swim, and Jackal all too happily fished me out. If that wasn't humiliating, I don't know what is.

Oh, and it didn't end like that. I guess I had reacted quite foolishly as I wrenched away from Jackal and stormed up to a smirking Spot. I cringed inwardly at the memory. I had ended up yelling a couple of, erm, _unfriendly_ things at him, right in his face.

And guess what he did? He simply smiled at me, tipped his hat, and walked off. Leaving me standing there. With everyone staring/laughing/smiling at my lovely dripping self. I half-wished he had reacted in any other way…anything would have been better than that condescending-you-poor-deranged-girl way.

I swore softly to myself. Spot was just strange. One moment I'd admire him, another I felt eternally grateful to him, and then I was itching to punch him right in his smirking face.

Another sudden gust of wind blew my newspapers right out of my hands; my grip had loosened. I stayed where I was and watched the newspapers flutter across the street and around the feet of the people walking by. I shrugged to myself. I couldn't have sold them anyway. I straightened from my position and walked away.

"Hey, you!"

I stopped and turned around. A large, burly officer stood nearby, an annoyed expression on his face. He pointed at the scattered newspapers in the dirt, his scowl nearly as dark as mine.

"How many times must I tell you…," he struggled with a word for a moment there and I waited impatiently. "You…you newsies," he finally said and shot me a glare before continuing, "to stop leavin' them newspapers everywhere on the street?"

Clearly, he had wanted to elaborate, but he didn't say anymore. Probably thought of how he should be a good example to us poor little kids starving in the streets…how sad.

"I didn't know," I answered automatically (and truthfully) without thinking, realizing too late that this would only lead to an argument, seeing what kind of opinion this guy had of us. Sure enough, he glared at me as if I had insulted him.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" he barked angrily.

"Ah…yeah. Was that a trick question?"

"No! Get those newspapers and get rid of them somewhere else!"

"Okay, okay…"

Strange really, how so many people I meet seem to make such a big deal out of little things. I waited for him to calm down, before moving to gather the newspapers. He watched me like a hawk, still glaring.

I straightened and smiled at him, giving into the temptation to annoy him just a little further.

"Want a pape? A billionaire committed suicide," I said innocently, unable to keep an impish grin, despite my glum mood before, off my face.

I watched with interest as the officer's face slowly turned red and his mouth worked up and down to form words. He seemed at loss, but his eyes grew hard. Finally, he snapped his mouth shut and drew himself up to his full height.

"Come on," he said, his voice suddenly imperious and commanding. "I'll have to take you down to the refuge for insulting an officer."

"The ref-What?" I blinked at the sudden turn of events and stared at him in dismay. I certainly didn't expect that. "The refuge?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

"No."

"No?" He took a step towards me to grab my arm, but, thankfully, it was all I needed for my reflexes to kick in.

I leaped back and threw the stack of newspapers at him before immediately breaking into a headlong run. He just stood there, surprised, before suddenly coming at me like a charging bull, newspapers flying all around him. It would have been a comical sight if I wasn't the one being chased. I managed to use my smaller form to slip between the passing people, while he pushed past them, bowling some over in the process.

I weaved through the crowd, hoping the officer would tire and stop. Unfortunately, he must have had nothing useful to do this morning. He continued to pound after me, shouting all the way. He seemed rather upset…heh. Upset was an understatement. He was red in the face, waving his arms around, and yelling like it was the end of the world.

I looked wildly around for a place to hide, feeling a little panicky. I knew that if there was something worse than being sent back to the orphanage, it was being sent to the refuge. I've heard enough stories about that place. I was never, ever going to go there. I'd probably go mad.

Finally spotting an alley, I took my chance and ducked into it. I waited behind some abandoned crates breathlessly, hoping that the officer would just run past. I crouched lower, trying to make myself smaller. I peeked out and waited with bated breath. The officer flew by, still yelling. I let out a breath and relaxed, knowing he would probably give up the chase. I straightened and took a relieved step backwards into the alley.

"Hey Ace."

I made a kind of cross between a squeal and a shriek and jumped around, scared out of my wits at the voice that suddenly breathed in my ear. I moved too violently, because I crashed against something _extremely_ solid and I stumbled back, tripped over the wooden corner of a crate, and fell over backwards with another panicked squawk. I shut my eyes, preparing myself for an insanely jarring impact with the floor…and then something caught me around my waist and stopped my fall. I looked up and, to my horror, found myself staring right into a pair of grey-blue eyes that could only belong to one person.

Joy. I could have cursed aloud.

Spot was completely supporting my weight with an arm, which would have been wonderfully romantic if it was anyone – I repeat – _anyone _else. He smirked and I glared up at him, knowing I was in a precarious position. If I moved, he'd lose balance and we'd both meet with the ground painfully. If he pulled me up, I'd end up with my nose in his face; something I wasn't quite looking forward to. He looked immensely amused at my predicament.

"You know," he drawled easily, "A lot of girls would _kill_ to be where you are now."

"Girls who are blind and more than a little dim in the head, you mean," I said at length, that is, after I managed to push away the infuriated screaming in my mind. The grey-blue eyes flickered appreciatively at my comeback, as though he was delighted at the prospect of another fight. Which made me so mad I nearly exploded.

He seemed to notice my sudden tenseness. Without another word, he swung me back up rather roughly and I couldn't help but notice it didn't really seem to give him much of an effort. I stopped myself with a hand, which had to land on his chest, which had to be another romantic position, which had to make him smirk widely, and which had to make me redden with anger. I tried edging back, but his hand was still firmly around my waist. And it was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Were you in trouble?" he asked with eyes narrowed with humor.

"I'm not _always_ in trouble, you know," I retorted instantly, snatching the implied meaning and throwing it back in his face. He merely raised an eyebrow as a skeptical answer and then the smirk of a smile returned as I pushed again gingerly against his chest. "Let me go," I finally gritted out tersely, forcing myself to stop and look at him straight in his eyes. Inwardly, I was furious at how he knew just the perfect way to annoy me.

Spot's smirk widened, but after another unnecessary moment, he released me complacently enough. I took a good step back safely away and glared at him murderously again, desperately trying to keep myself from driving my fist straight into that boyish face and wiping off that smug, superior look. I was quickly losing that little internal fight, so I broke eye contact and started brushing off some dust off my clothes as I struggled to keep control. I looked at him warily with the corner of my eye. He was, well, he wasn't exactly smiling. But he looked like he was about to…ah.

Yes, he smiled.

And how _dare_ he smile?

"Dat officer was after you?"

"Yes," I said rigidly after I realized he was still waiting for an answer. Meanwhile, millions of evil, sadistic thoughts were cruising around my head.

"Let me guess…you left your papes all around da street?"

I was surprised at the accuracy of his guess, but not for the world would I tell him that. I gave a curt nod for an answer, still staring stubbornly away from him. I was mad and I wanted him to know it. Childish, yes…but I didn't care.

"It happens a lot."

I didn't answer.

"You hungry?"

Caught off guard at the question, I glanced at him in surprise. He had a casual expression on his face and his question made me realized that I was starving. I nodded again and brushed a speck of dirt from my sleeve.

"Care to accompany me to Ray's den?" he said with an exaggerated bow.

I stopped and then couldn't help staring at him at this. Did he _really_ think I would? Maybe yesterday's thing was nothing to him, but I was still seriously angry.

"I think I lost my appetite," I snapped venomously and quickly turned on my heel to leave the alley.

"Aw, are you still upset over dat little incident yesterday?"

I abruptly stopped short and whirled around furiously. I opened my mouth to say something really nasty, but choked it back at the sight of the open grin on his face. His eyebrows were raised and his arms folded across his chest. His grin was taunting, his eyes glittering.

It was like he was waiting for me to explode. I shut my mouth with a snap.

So he could have the chance to humiliate me again? No way.

And if he wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that was fine with me. I could do the same.

I fought down the torrent of words that had risen in my throat and smiled back at him. I felt a sense of small triumph as I saw a flash of surprise in his eyes, though it was gone in a moment. His grin was replaced with his customary smirk.

"Upset? Me, upset? Naw, how could you think of such a thing?" I said, unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice.

"You sound like Race when he's tryin' t'bluff his way through a pokah game," he replied dryly. "Though he sounds a little more shifty."

I clenched my fists, practically boiling. "You…you're so…_arrogant_,"I finally said, exasperated.

He only snickered and returned smoothly, "Did dat little dive into the water cool you off, Ace of me heart? Dat why you're actin' so uptight?"

I felt heat eat up its way up my neck to my face again. The _jerk_. I glared up at him with narrowed eyes, all pretense of being calm dropped. I shoved him in the chest furiously and he stepped back easily, his eyebrows raised.

"Hey, the next time I meet you at the docks, _you_ can be the one implying that I'm coward and_ I'll_ push you in the water, alright?" I hissed and he just looked at me, then suddenly snorted.

"Dat's da lamest comeback I've ever heard."

I scowled at him. There was no sign of anger on his face, not a trace of it. Just that grin, like he was enjoying this argument.

"It wasn't meant to be witty," I muttered, before turning away from him, walking quickly out of the alley. "At least I got to shout at you after I got out."

Of course, Spot heard the last bit and his slick reply was quick, sounding more entertained than affected. "Shout? More like squealed, shrieked, or screamed, ain't it?"

I murmured a curse, but pasted a smile before turning back around, still walking. I was about to say a fairly good reply that compared Spot with a egg shell, but he cut me off, yawning as he did so.

"And, by da way, your lovely officer's standin' right behind you."

I stilled.

I forced myself to turn around. To my immense relief, even though he was only a few feet away, he hadn't seen me, as his face was turned in another direction. I stared and even though I knew I'd hate doing it, I knew Spot deserved my thanks. I nodded to him, forcing a little smile on my face, before slipping quickly into the crowd and easing my way farther from the officer.

That was close. And it was a very strange ending to our argument.

I exhaled a long breath with mixed emotions. Typical. Yet again, Spot managed to make me feel furious, grateful, irritated, and confused all at once. Though, I had to admit, arguing with him got me thinking.

Did he think I was overreacting, making a big deal about something small…like _I _always thought _other _people were doing? Did he think I was acting like a spoiled brat?

'Cos if he did, that would be even worse than anything that had happened during my short newsie career.

I shook away the thought, telling myself that I didn't care what Spot thought. Huh, sure, that makes me feel better…

I was nearing the Lodging House, when I realized I really was hungry. I sighed and decided I didn't want to meet up with Spot at Ray's. I just wanted to lie down on my bunk and cool off.

I stepped inside the House and looked around quickly. I saw, to my relief, no one around. Thank goodness. I definitely did not feel like talking to anyone right now.

Unfortunately, my seemingly sensible plan of 'cooling off' did not go the way I wanted to. I had barely moved towards the set of stairs that led to the girls' room, before someone shoved me aside from behind. The same someone streaked past me towards the boys' room.

I only caught the sight of a lithe, willowy form duck into the room with almost catlike grace before I realized a few things.

1: The person was a girl.

2: The girl was probably Cat.

3: If it was Cat, something important must be going on.

And 4: I wanted to know what it was.

Before I could take a step, however, the girl dashed out of the room and then paused at the sight of me. I quickly looked her over. I had not seen much of Cat, but her unmistakable features-emotionless grey almond-shaped eyes, small pale face, unsmiling lips-told me that it was her.

"Hey Cat," I greeted, feeling uncomfortable. Cat was one of those people you can _never_ tell what they're thinking or feeling because they look so emotionless and have this cool mask over their face. Not to mention that the way she seemed to be evaluating me, as if decided whether I could be trusted, made me feel disconcerted.

I cleared my throat as she didn't reply, still looking at me in that scrutinizing way. I swallowed and started, "What's all the rush-"

"Where is Spot?" Cat cut in suddenly before I could continue.

"What?" I asked stupidly, surprised at the sudden change of subject. If there was a subject in the first place…

The Japanese-American's face was devoid of any emotion whatsoever, but I noticed the way her mouth tightened ever so slightly.

"Spot. Where is he?" she repeated, her voice a little clipped as her fingers lightly rubbed the black band around her right wrist, and then the one on her left. A sure sign of irritation. Her grey eyes bore into my brown, waiting for me to answer.

I then realized that this was sort of a way to get back at Spot, by delaying this evidently important piece of news from getting to him. But I quickly shook the thought away, no matter how tempting it might be. He had just helped me…I wasn't _that _pigheaded.

Besides, I wanted to know what Cat was so jumpy about. There was a greater chance of learning of it from Spot, though I'd prefer indirectly. Cat would _never _tell me.

"He's probably at Ray's," I said finally. "I think he's eating lunch," I added, before realizing how stupid that sounded. Cat's expression didn't change. She nodded quickly, spun on her heel, and sprinted lightly out the door.

I stepped outside and ran after the newsie. I watched her enter Ray's without a pause and, from the window, I saw her practically drag Spot out of his chair (well, not really, but it was close to it) and whisper something furiously in his ear.

I chose to enter the restaurant then and slid into a table to sit next to Sodapop. She grinned at me and continued talking with Artemis about some amusing incident that had happened with her and Jack, but I wasn't listening.

Spot's eyes flickered over towards me and then returned to Cat's impassive face. He asked her something in a low voice, to which she nodded. Spot's cool, calm demeanor remained, but he clenched the top of cane tightly with one hand, and then released it. He nodded to Cat (probably his way of saying thanks) and turned to Pilot.

"Get to da docks and tell da rest to meet us at Manhattan's distribution centah." I could barely catch the softly-spoken words, but it was enough to realize the news had had something to do with the strike.

I watched Pilot slip past the door, feeling a sense of deep relief that I had not lied to Cat. So, what had happened to the Manhattanners?

"Hey!"

Silence fell as Spot stood up, his hand still on his cane.

"Just got news…Jackie-boy's in deep trouble," he said lightly, but I could see the seriousness in his eyes. "A trap at da distribution center to get 'em to stop da strike."

Surprised exclamations could be heard from the listening newsies, along with some oaths and curses. A trap? What on earth? By who, Pulitzer? It died down quickly as Spot continued speaking.

"Obviously, Jack an' da others don't know. I'll tell da plan to you when we get dere."

The newsies were silent again, but it was a tense kind of silence, brimming with excitement.

"Well, gents…and ladies," he spoke slowly, almost drawling, but he was also excited; I could tell from the way he was playing with his cane. "Guess wese all goin' t'Manhattan," he finished dramatically. He was enjoying himself.

The room was quickly emptied in a rush of bodies. Before I knew it, I was out of the little restaurant, into the streets, and was trying to keep up with the long strides of an excited Artemis. I sighed and felt somewhat cheated for no particular reason. Spot sure knew how to get things rolling.

* * *

**Author's Note:**There you go! Cute little chapter, I think. The romance between Ace and Spot (yeah, I'm sure you guys have guessed by now) is going really slow and easy, 'cos I don't want it to be corny by suddenly having Ace have a change of heart.Any ideas, comments, and suggestions are ALWAYS welcome!


	8. To The Rescue! or not

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note:**Yeah…long time, no updating. Not as long as the last time thought! hopeful look :P Very sorry again. Anyway, this chapter has some different points of views, but I hope it's not too confusing.

**Disclaimer:** Ace…Fire…mine. Everyone else…not mine.

Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

Manhattan. It was a great place, the atmosphere so much more relaxed than Brooklyn. It was more crowded as well, but strangely enough, it didn't seem smaller. But I think I would always prefer Brooklyn's tense atmosphere and that little spice of danger which was always there. I'd probably get bored here.

A few people were giving us strange looks as we passed them. I didn't blame them, as we were quite a loud and motley group with more than few suspicious-looking characters…

Spot had briefed us on what he planned to do. As it seems, Pulitzer had hired a gang of men to take down the newsies and force them to quit the strike. He's so low, doing that kind of a thing to only teenagers. Spot told us that we're to slip in before the afternoon papes were sold without being seen and have half of us inside hiding while the other waited outside for him or some other newsie to open the gates.

It was a very simple plan and we all thought it was a good one. We met up with Pilot and the rest of the Brooklynites at the distribution center. It was quiet still, as the new delivery of papes hadn't come yet.

"Okay, who's got dere slingshots with dem?"

A lot of boys answered to that, including Jackal and Pike, and I realized that Spot probably wanted those boys in. I felt a flash of disappointment. I knew it was stupid, but I guess I just wanted to be more part of this strike. To be accepted by the Brooklynites? I don't know. Maybe.

Sodapop seemed to have the same desire, but probably for different reasons. "Can't some of us be without dem slingshots be in anyway? To help?"

Spot glanced at her and then at me before shaking his head. "No."

"Why?" I blurted out and then reddened as he gave me a measuring glance. Why does he always make me do that?

"Too dangerous," he finally said. "Okay, guys, get inside. Runnin' outta time."

Too dangerous? Sure, yeah, it's for my well-being and all that junk…he probably thinks I'll mess it all up. I bit back a retort and didn't say anything. I didn't want to get on Spot's bad side again. Not, at least, at this moment. Sodapop glowered while a scowl appeared on Artemis' face, but they both didn't comment. It was too urgent a situation.

I watched Spot look up at the gate and narrow his eyes against the midday sun, before reaching up and grab one of the bars on the gate. Hedeftly pulled himself up andbegan scalingthe gate with surprising ease. He dropped down on the other side quietly before quickly ducking out of sight from the fat guy selling the newspaper, even though he was snoring his head off. The rest of the boys were already following his example and were climbing up the gates. I was watching them when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

I turned and frankly stared as I saw Fire there, smiling a smile that made him look almost friendly for a second.

"You look like a gaping fish," he stated in an unnaturally amiable tone.

I snapped my mouth shut and my blank stare quickly narrowed to a suspicious glare. Sure, I had somewhat forgotten about the bullying buffoon for the past few days, but that didn't mean that I didn't notice the hate-laden glances and glares he threw my way.

Oh yeah…not to mention the not-so-childish pranks I'd find every once in a while. I'd tried not to tell anyone though and I certain did not tell Spot. I was sick of him coming to my rescue all the time. But what did Fire want now?

He was still standing there, a smile on his face. It began to look plastered on his face now.

"What do you want?" I said, refraining from adding an insulting name at the end of my sentence.

"I can get you in dere without da rest seein', you know. Dere's another way in," he said, still smiling carelessly as he gestured at the gate.

"Huh?" I glanced at the other Brooklynites. They were already moving off the street and no one seemed to have noticed us talking. I focused my attention on Fire again.

"Get you inside the distribution center. Dat's what you want right?"

For a second I leaped at the opportunity, but then I remember just who was telling me this.

"Um…yeah, but it's not a big deal. I don't really care," I lied through my teeth, not matching his friendly tone and taking a wary step backwards from him.

The smile on Fire's face faded and didn't return. He refrained from glaring at me though and just looked at me.

"Y'don't trust me?"

"Hmm…yeah, I think that might have some part in it."

"C'mon, I'm not mad at you."

Oh yeah, sure. Then what was that dagger that was hanging over my head by a string when I woke up the other day? Or the glass I luckily found in my shoes before wearing them? Sure, he's not mad at me. They're just gifts showing his friendship, right?

"Whatever. Aren't _you _supposed to be getting inside?" I finally replied, shooting him a degrading glance before running to catch up with the rest of the Brooklynites.

I heard him mutter something nasty under his breath and I glanced back to see him glaring at me vehemently before climbing over the gates. I shrugged and concentrated on hiding.

* * *

_**(to Spot) **_

Today is not a good day, Spot thought to himself in annoyance as he climbed up to the roof of the center. He liked Manhattan of course, but he hated having to go back on his decisions. By coming to help the Manhattaners out, everyone else would believe that he had joined the strike. Now, he knew, he and his newsies were no longer in their neutral state, no matter what they did. Might as well join.

He grunted as he swung himself over. He was in good shape, but it was still a bit of a strain on his muscles. Picking a spot where he had a perfect view of the place below, he crouched in hiding. He nodded his assent to the rest who had positioned themselves at strategic places.

Now all he had to do was wait for a little while. And that, he decided, was the hardest part. He drew out his slingshot and rubbed a calloused thumb over the smooth wood. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and drew out one of the marbles Boots had given him. Then he lay quiet and still.

For some reason, his thoughts kept straying from the oncoming skirmish. The morning's events played itself over in his head and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

Ace was a smart girl. He had no doubts about letting her join them, for she had plenty of fire and spunk. Not much of a fighter, but she was what he would call a 'stayer.' Once he won her loyalty, she would, with raw determination, probably stay with him 'till the end. That is, once he won her loyalty. Seeing things as they were now, that was going to take time. But Spot liked challenges. He liked them a lot.

When she had came up sputtering out of the water and had lost her temper, as in _really_ lost it, by shouting things at him that he would never have allowed anyone to say, he had been slightly stunned. Most boys would come back up from a dunking and slink away. She had come up yelling at him, and a girl at that. He had had to leave or he would have burst out laughing. It was then when curiosity caught hold of him. Exactly what kind of a girl was Ace?

She was ignorant at times. Not to mention nearly as smart-mouthed and (occasionally) annoying as Racetrack was. But he had taken to her, he admitted. She was not too different from the rest of the girls, but she had quality. A little too prickly maybe, but she did have quality.

He suddenly noticed the growing crowd of people outside the gates and the shouts that were erupting seemingly from nowhere. His thoughts scattered and he gave a nod to Sparrow who glanced over to me. He then watched Weasel and the two Delancey brothers stomp inside.

He had a strong temptation to shoot at them, but didn't. Later, maybe. Not now.

"Strike! Strike! Strike!"

He smirked. The Manhattaners certainly were enthusiastic. He watched them yelling and driving back the other newsies who were trying to buy the newspapers. Racetrack was swinging his fists wildly, almost catching one of the 'traitors' in the eye. Well, Racetrack was a good fighter in a pinch, he thought distractedly.

Fleeing to the doors that were on the other side, the sell-out newsies pounded on the wooden surface as if they were signaling for help. Spot couldn't help but snicker inwardly at the startled look on Racetrack's face; it made him look like he had lost at poker game.

The next few minutes were a blur of motion. Stones flew everywhere, all of them precise and accurate. His boys were more than good at slingshots. The Manhattaners were holding up well, but he and the rest of the Brooklynites took out the majority of the hired men.

He got to the ground as soon as he could, taking out two men as he did. Jack had a grateful expression on his face and Spot grinned at him mischievously, fully enjoying the whole moment. Leaving him, Spot then went over to open the gate for the rest of the Brooklynites. There were still a lot of the men who seemed irritated at being outsmarted by a bunch of kids and were still full of fight.

Flicking back his hair, Spot opened the barred gates with a smirk. The men sure were in for it.

The Brooklynites practically flooded the entire area. It was totally chaotic moment which obviously made no sense to the hired men. They lost their nerve and started retreating, slowly, but surely. Some of them seemed angry at being beaten by boys and were causing some trouble, but the newsies were definitely holding their own. The thugs were outnumbered and they knew it.

Then Spot then found himself face to face with Ace, laughing and looking like she was having the time of her life. Surprisingly, her grin didn't fade as she saw him. It simply grew as she ducked a club blow from a bulk of a man and Spot threw a punch at the man, knocking him over.

"Thanks," she said, her dark eyes for once not glaring at him. Spot shrugged and glanced at Cat, who calmly kicked away a guy from Milkshake. Jackal flattened one guy with one blow and seemed to be treating it all as one fun game. Spot smirked and faced Ace.

"No problem," Spot replied, letting loose a stone that bounced off a huge burly man's head. He watched as Ace grabbed up a fallen cudgel and started whacking away at a man who had nearly taken her head off with a chain. Not much skill, but yeah, the passion was there. He stared in a mixture of amusement and surprise at her ferocity. Well, who said she couldn't fight?

What happened next was so sudden and unexpected that he knew he couldn't have done anything. But he wished he could have.

Ace was turning towards him and was about to say something, when a stone flew out of nowhere and struck her hard across the side of her forehead. It was obviously meant to hit her right on. She gasped sharply and stumbled, dropping the cudgel as her hand instinctively went up to the bleeding gash.

Spot sucked in a quick breath and whirled around to scan the area behind him with narrowed eyes. It was impossible to tell through the crowd. That was a deliberate blow. None of his boys would be so careless and it couldn't have been one of the thugs, for they were all fleeing.

He turned back to Ace just in time to see her lower her hand slowly, staring at the blood in dumb surprise. She flinched as another stone narrowly missed her ear. Furious, he quickly dragged her behind the wagon before any more stones found her.

"You alright?" he asked over the din. She had a dazed look on her face, but she managed to nod and then promptly gasped. He looked at the bleeding gash on her forehead and desperately hoped it wasn't too serious

As he reached to wipe some blood off, Ace suddenly seemed to snap out of her shock. Shaking away his hand and yanking away from him, she stood up, furious. She looked around the commotion and the yelling newsies, trying to pick out a face.

"Who shot that stone? I bet it was Fire, the dirty excuse for a-," she abruptly sat down and winced. "Ow…"

Spot wasn't smiling, though inwardly he found himself admiring her fast recovery of her wits. "You think it was Fire?"

She didn't reply for a few seconds as she used her sleeve and wiped it across her face, carefully avoiding the wound. She grimaced at the red stain on her sleeve and then looked at him.

"Yeah," she answered finally, looking dizzy again. Spot scowled and was about to tell her to wait when he was suddenly aware of the fact that all the hired men around us were driven off and everyone was yelling their victory. Good. At least they didn't have to worry about them any more.

The next thing he knew, a band of newsies had broken them apart and he found himself being brought through the yelling newsies towards a group of Manhattanners getting their picture taken by a reporter. He glanced at Ace. She seemed fine, just stunned.

Spot was still worried, but they made him stay. There was little he could do when no one could even hear him protest. The reporter, whoever he was, took the picture and he was aware of that boy…what was it, the walking mouth boy, yelping about something or another, but Spot wasn't paying attention.

He had to find Fire.

* * *

_**(to Ace) **_

I felt like elephants had decided to stampede through my head. Who knew that one stone would hurt so much? But it must have been sharp, because I felt blood trickle down the side of my head again. I prodded the gash gingerly. Instantly wave of pain crashed over me and I sat through it, gritting my teeth. Okay, so touching it is _not_a good idea.

When the pounding headache receded back again, I tried to think clearly. I had instinctively thought that the stone was deliberately thrown. But now that I wasn't blinded by anger, I knew that there was a good chance that it could have simply been an accident. Even if it wasn't, was I really sure it was Fire? It could have even been thrown by one of the hired men.

I suddenly felt foolish. Spot must have thought I was acting like a kid with an enormous grudge, ready to point out that anything bad that happened to her was caused by someone she didn't like. No wonder his face was so carefully kept in check when I had rambled and raved about Fire.

Another thought occurred to me as I sat there, ignored and ignoring the cheering newsies. If Spot went to Fire (which I hoped he wouldn't, because it would be the thousandth time he had helped me out of a mess) and if Fire hadn't thrown the stone (which was a very likely possibility), just how would he react? I pretty much knew the answer to that, but I didn't want to think about it.

I also felt suddenly guilty. I don't like Spot for reasons too complicated for me to take the time to figure out. He knew it as well, I'm sure. But he had looked out for me, even if it was just because the stone incident had just happened in front of him. In fact, he had helped me twice already today, including that little incident with the police officer this morning.

So it all came down to the fact that I owed him an apology for being so nasty. Not only that, but I needed to thank him. Again. I felt a frown make its way to my face and felt unmistakably furious for putting myself into situations like this all the time.

I sighed. I usually didn't really mind apologizing when I was in the wrong, but doing so to someone like Spot felt…I don't know, degrading. But I just didn't want to. But he deserved both my apologies and my thanks.

Argh. Sometimes I wish the orphanage hadn't drilled that conscience into me.

I slowly stood up as I noticed that some of the newsies were trickling out of the crowded center out into the street. I looked for Spot, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I then looked for Fire, but he wasn't anywhere either. I wasn't sure whether I was glad or not.

I took a step and thankfully the headache didn't assault me like it had before. I was walking carefully out when Milkshake appeared next to me. I would have grinned at her, but I wasn't in the mood.

"You okay?" she asked, her observant green eyes hovering on my bleeding forehead. I started to nod, but stopped as the same dizzying pain stabbed through my head again.

"I'm fine," I answered carefully, striving for a casual tone that wouldn't provoke more questions. She looked dubiously at me for a moment, but then plunged on.

"Some of us are gonna spend the night over here tonight, so wanna stay with us?"

"Here?"

"Yeah, you know, at the Manhattan lodging house."

I wanted to decline, but I knew I just didn't want to see Spot. Hopefully he hadn't said anything to Fire yet, so, along with my dreaded apologies and thanks, I'll be able to tell him not to approach Fire. I wanted to do it myself. It was my problem, not his.

With that last thought, which sounded satisfyingly defiant enough for my pride, I followed Milkshake to the lodging house.

* * *

**A/N:** Argh! Ace is so brainless sometimes. :P I hope the different points of views didn't confuse anyone too much, but I wanted to try out Spot's sometime. I wasn't too sure about this chapter, but with this one, I want to get the Fire/Ace thingy settled later on.

Oh yes, I would usually write the replies to my reviewers here, but there's been some weird rule from that we can't do that anymore. So unfair…but hopefully, some of you guys got an e-mail from me or some other person about a petition or something against it. So, maybe soon I'll be able to reply to you all again.

But all I can say now is...**thank you to all who reviewed!**


	9. Plans

_Ace of Hearts_

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note:** Here's the next chapter! Yay, I didn't take like two months to update this time. :P Oh, there's a few changes I made at the end of the chapter before. I said that Ace went to Tibby's (the KONY scene), but I realized that, although in the movie the scene changes instantly to Tibby's, there was no way that the newspaper with their picture couldn't be published so fast. So yeah, sorry about that. I just overlooked it.

This chapter's one of those in-betweens, but hopefully not too boring.

**Disclaimer:** Ace, Fire, Smoke, Trek, are mine. Everyone, nooot mine.

Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

It would usually only take a few minutes to get to the Manhattan Lodging house, but the newsies were talking, getting food at diners, and practically lounging around. If I wasn't so tired I would have joined them in their fun, but my headache was back and I just wanted to sleep on something soft enough to be a bunk.

So I made my way to the Lodging House alone. I was slightly worried whether I remembered where it was, but it wasn't as hard as I expected to find it. I passed the statue I had seen before on my last visit, walked through the doors, climbed up the stairs, and walked to the open door I saw. A part of my mind told me to I should inspect my foreheadin the mirror I saw in the washroom, but I ignored it. I was too tired and I just _hurt_.

I paused at the doorway of the room I remembered and stared at the disarray without much disgust. It didn't look any different than the mess at Brooklyn. So I stepped in and looked for a bunk that was clear of the mess. Hoping that no one slept in the one I found, I stumbled towards it…tripped over an article of clothing...picked myself up...stumbled towards the bunk again...and was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

* * *

I woke up from a muddled sleep to muffled noises in the room. I feltlike opening my eyes was a bother, so I lazily decided to sleep a little more. I was just about to slip back to a real deep sleep again when I registered the fact that thenoises were voices. Voices that were snickering. A lot. Then I blearily noticed that the pitch was low…boys. In the room. Snickering…at me?

That jerked me awake.

My eyes snapped open and Ishot up from the bunk so fast that my forehead connected with the bottom of the bunk above me with a dull_ thunk_. I shrieked and fell back with a groan, holding my head in my hands and feeling incredibly foolish.

"Ow…ow…ow…," I moaned, rocking back and forth. The events of yesterday – or last night? A few hours ago? How long had I been asleep?- came rushing back. Now I was gonna have a great big bruise as well as a gash on my forehead. Lovely. I'd be the most conspicuous girl on the streets.

"See you woke up," came a smooth familiar voice and I cracked my tightly shut eyes open to see Spot looking down at me, a grin on his face. I stared at him in confusion before swinging my legs over the bunk. I sat there and gritted my teeth asmy head suddenly burst alive with a flash of pain.Well, that stone _was_thrown or shotwith considerable force. It was amazing that I didn't just keel over and lose consciousness when it hit me. At least I felt much better than last night, though. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spot looking closely at me and it was then when I remembered about my resolution to make it up to him. The whole 'thanks and sorry' thing for judging him so bad from the day we met.

The small window at one end of the room poured sunlight and I realized that it was probably past morning. All the boys were talking amongst themselves or playing card games on their bunks. I didn't see Race or Jack, but I saw the boy they called Skittery. He was sitting near the window, staring out and looking positively moody. A small blonde-haired boy was wrestling with a dark-skinned boy around his age. Cute.

Of course, while I was looking around, I was trying not to look like I was furiously thinking about how I was to apologize to Spot without embarrassing myself. Apologizing just wasn't my thing. To tell the truth, I hated it.

Studiously ignoring the stares some of the boys were giving me, I finally glanced up at Spot and scowled at the amused look on his face.

"You can wipe that smirk off for once," I snapped, suddenly angry, and he only grinned. But I noticed that he had marks of tiredness underneath his eyes.

"Dat was my reserved bunk, y'know," he said as he suddenly gave a yawn while reaching for his black, gold-topped cane.

"Oh." I forced myself not to blush. I could just imagine the kind of remarks the other boys had been making…

I stood up then and then leaned against the bunk post as a familiar headache returned. Spot must have slept on the floor then. I winced at the thought. I was probably nothing but a bother to him.Why didn't he just ignore me then? Snub me? Tell me off? It certainly would hurt me, but at least I wouldn't be wondering the whole time of what he thought of me.

"Sorry. Was just so tired last night," I replied and fell silent again. How to apologize? Keep it short, I told myself. Don't ramble.

"What, couldn't handle da day?" he asked jokingly and I shook my head, irritated.

"About Fire," I said, putting off my apology for as long as I could. "You didn't approach him yet, did you?"

Spot gave me an evaluating look. "No. But I will."

"Don't," I said quickly.

"Why."

"Because…," I paused and continued, "I mean, it might not be Fire who threw that stone anyway. And it's not your problem. I cantake care of the situation myself."

Great job, Ace. You've managed to sound stupid and rude at the same time. Can anything get worse? Okay, I did not think that. I _so_did not think that.

Spot's grey-blue eyes narrowed for a second, but he didn't say anything. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched until he finally spoke.

"You better not go back on dat."

"I won't."

"You better not," he repeated. "I'm not havin' Fire keep makin' trouble all da time," he replied coolly and then smirked again then. "What, you don't like da idea of me always helpin' you?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, because it was true. But I felt defensive.

"No…not really. It's just…," I stopped before I finished that stumbling sentence, sighed, turned to face Spot fully, and said as firmly as I could, "Listen, Spot, I'm sorry about yesterday. And the day before. I shouldn't have gone and said all those things to you. And…thanks for helpin' me yesterday. You know. About that officer."

Run! Flee! Those were my first thoughts as soon as my words were out. I wantedhide somewhere so that I wouldn't have to see Spot's reaction. But I shoved the impulse down and stayed where I was, getting the horrible feeling that every boy in the room was staring at me. I glanced at Spot, who was silent, and hated the words I had just gritted out.

But he deserved to hear them.

I guess.

Spot, who had been slinging his cane through his belt loop, gave me a look I couldn't comprehend and then scooping up his hat from the floor. I felt another flash of irritation. If he wasn't gonna answer, fine. I stood upand stalked towards to the door.

"Hey Ace."

I forced myself to stop and turn around. I braced myself for some scathing remark, some ridiculing comment, but all IsawinSpot's face was amusement. Heput his gray cabby hat on his head and looked up, his lips curved into a surprisingly genuine smile.

"Lunch is at Tibby's."

I tried hard not to grin with relief, but I couldn't help it.

"Okay."

While I walked out of the door, I decided that that was going to be the last time I ever just drop into a room and snore away on some empty bunk. I also decided that I was going totry to think better of Spot. He wasn't that bad…but then again, he was very liable to make me think the complete opposite of him some other time.He was just confusing. Now all I had to do was find a way to confront Fire and get the whole stupid situation between us done with.

I was walking past the washroom when I paused and decided to take a look at my forehead. It simply gave some twinges now and then, so it shouldn't be too serious. I stepped in and stopped near a broken down sink and a mirror that was clean enough to look in.

I gaped. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, a picture of pure surprise. My face, bloody and dirty was it was yesterday, was completely clean. How? I had expected it to be utterly gritty and filthy. But it was clean. Even my gash looked like someone had carefully brushed the dried blood away from the cut, even though it still looked rather painful. In fact, it looked like someone had treated it.

Then I knew. It wasn't a very comforting thought.

Spot had probably wiped away the blood and grime from my face while I was asleep. He also treated to the gash on my forehead. This made me quickly turn away from the mirror and dash down the stairs. I ran past an old man at the desk, who smiled at me. I smiled automatically back, my thoughts jumbled and confused.

Why did he do it? As if I wasn't trouble enough? Why did he bother? Whycare?

Unless he…

I stopped short in my tracks and felt dizzy again. But it wasn't the painful dizziness from yesterday. The thought of Spot…it was unbelievable. It was embarrassing. But, what if he really…

Then I was utterly disgusted with myself. Idiot. I was so stupidly romantic.

He probably couldn't stand the thought of dried blood all over his bunk, I told myself, shoving aside the nervous flutter that had suddenly risen in my stomach. How unreal could I get? Besides, who said that it was Spot who had done that little favor for me? It could have been…I dunno, Snipeshooter, for all I knew.

Besides, even if Spot did clean my face for me, so what? It wasn't a big deal. I mean, it's just _wiping_. Nothing like…that.It was ridiculous.

Rolling my eyes at myself and shoving away the thoughts at the back of my mind to be forgotten, I left the lodging house quickly. The sudden brightness of the sun made me shade my eyes until they adjusted to the light. As I lowered my hand, I noticed some familiar faces lounging near the same statue I had seen a few days ago. Pike and Milkshake were there, talking quietly by themselves. Race was amongst a circle of boys that included Jack and the boy with the eye patch…um…Kid Blink. They were, from what I deducted from Race's protesting shouts, playing poker.

"Hey, Ace!"

I recognized Sundance as she beckoned me over to where she and a group of newsies were lounging just about the other side of the statue of the gambling boys. As I drew near, I realized I didn't recognize most of the girls and boys near her. Introductions were obviously about to be made.

"You guys had pretty nifty timin' yesterday," she said, the sun making her dark hair shine copper. I sat down on the warm paved ground near her. I grinned, but didn't reply. I had a feeling that most of the Brooklynites had been bragging about it, so I just kept silent.

"Y'call her Ace?" asked a tall boy to Sundance. I glanced at his face. He had the darkest eyes I had ever seen. "I knew a guy named Ace…got himself killed in a fight."

The red-head next to him chuckled a bit, but I wasn't sure whether it was some sort of subtle insult or just a comment. I hoped it was just a comment. And why chuckle?

"Oh," I said. "I see."

"This is Trek," said Sundance carelessly. Trek flashed me a handsome smile. I didn't feel inclined to do the same. Then Sundance went on.

"That's Sparks, Blondie, Fox, Bumlets, Snitch, Shrieksy, and Smoke."

I lost Sundance from 'Blondie', but I nodded and smiled at each one, uncomfortably aware of Trek's eyes on me. I would never remember their names…

"You're new, aren't you?" asked a boy with jet-black hair and a wide grin on his face. Bumlets? Snitch? I suppose I'd find out later.

"Well, been in Brooklyn for about two weeks."

A pretty girl with green eyes and long brown hair smiled as well. "How're you likin' Spot?"

I forgot who she was. Was it Fox or Shrieksy? "He's okay."

Then I was caught up in a conversation I mostly couldn't follow, as they began talking about the peculiarities of Spot (I definitely could understand that) and about humorous incidents I didn't know about. It was one of those chats where you just sit and listen. Not that I particularly minded. Smoke, a serious-looking boy with eyes the color of smokey grey, asked me about my forehead, but I quickly dismissed it as a little cut. Thankfully, the subject was dropped.

I admit that my mind wandered away from the conversation. I couldn't help but wonder where Fire was. I also mused over what I'd say to him if I did meet up with him. Ask him right out whether he threw the stone at me? Pretend like nothing happened? I dismissed the second thought. That would simply lead to more 'accidents' and I wasn't keen on repeating something like yesterday.

Soon enough, it was noon and my appetite awakened suddenly. It felt strange not doing anything in the morning; not selling newspapers, not earning money. I didn't mind being lazy though. One of the better advantages, I thought with a little flare of humor, of striking.

I left the talking newsies and realized belatedly that I had no idea where this "Tibby's" place was, when I noticed Race, Jack, and Kid Blink stand up from their gambling game.

"Hey guys, do you know where Tibby's is?" I asked.

"We're goin' dere now," said Jack, his cowboy hat hanging down his back by its cord. He gave me an amiable grin that I couldn't resist smiling back.

"Come with us," said Kid Blink in a friendly tone. I looked up into his one mesmerizing blue eye and I wondered whether the eye patch was a fraud or not. Some newsies do that. Anyhow, I gratefully accepted and we walked down the street.

Race was still talking about the poker game they had been playing, protesting that Kid Blink had been unfair. It was an amusing conversation to listen to.They both had so many witty comebacks to retort to one another that they had me laughing the whole time. I liked them. They were fun, friendly, andso open. They were easy to talk to; Race with his smart mouth, Kid Blink with his friendliness, and Jack with his charm.

"We gotta play again," Race said to me, his chocolate brown gaze playful. He was probably the only newsie I didn't have to tilt my head up at, though he was taller than me by about an inch. I grinned while Kid Blink and Jack simply rolled their eyes.

"And I'll win next time," I replied confidently, crossing my arms with a smirk.

"Y'hear dat, Race?" said Jack, refastening the red bandana around his neck. "Betcha she will."

The Italian newsie didn't seem in the least bit worried. "Suuure," he said, drawling out the word and winking at me. I grinned again. I, of course, doubted I would win against Race, who seemed to have all the luck in the world whenever he played from the stories I heard. But who knows. I could. Besides, I just felt carefree enough to be carelessly confident.

We arrived at Tibby's soon and the three boys left me the minute they entered. I knew they had their own Manhattan friends. I stepped away from the door and walked over to sit at a table. I looked around the little restaurant, which wasn't too crowded.

Tibby's wasn't too different from Ray's, although it was much cleaner and better furnished. The tables even had nice checkered tablecloths, giving a pleasant, 'home-ish', air to the whole place. Still, I didn't quite notice it all, as I was soon talking with a Manhattan newsie named Irish. She was a tall, slender girl and a little quiet, but not too much. She told me that she was Bumlets' girl.

Of the Brooklynites, there were Jackal, Pilot, and Artemis. And Spot, of course. Artemis joined in our conversation just as we ordered our lunch. Artemis seemed to know Irish, so I was soon out of the conversation. I didn't really mind as I was watching Spot and a bunch of Manhattaners talk excitedly over the newspaper on their table. The newspaper? Weren't they on strike?

I asked Artemis, who told me that some reporter had taken their picture and had put it on the New York Sun newspaper. Surprised, I left the table and slipped nearer to the table with the said newspaper. Peering over Race's shoulder (as he was the only one short enough to peer over), I saw a large picture on the frontpage.

I couldn't keep back the choke of laughter that escaped me. They all looked so…startled. Most of them weren't even looked at the camera, or they had the weirdest expressions. The only one properly smiling was Jack, who was in the middle.

"Don't tell me you're laughin' at me pic?"

Spot sounded so hurt that I laughed again.

"Your pic? I see at least ten other people in there…some of them with stupider expressions than yours," I said, still snickering. I was distantly surprised at my own words, knowing if it was a few days before, I wouldn't even try to talk to Spot.

"They do look rather distracted, don't they? I couldn't get them to stay still and then they wouldn't let me snap another shot," The cultured voice belonged to a middle-aged man dressed in immaculate clothes. I looked at him in surprise. Who was he? What was he doing here?

"The name's Bryan Denton," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it, quickly looking him over. He looked amiable enough. At least, he didn't look at us with the usual condescending or pitying look most adults did.

"I'm Ace," I replied. "Nice to meet you." The reporter (for I figured he was the reporter for the New York Sun) had a puzzled expression at my response, probably because he was used to the rough manners the rest of us had. Curse the orphanages. Before he questioned me, though, I quickly excused myself and went back to my table to eat. Irish and Artemis had disappeared, so I ate alone.

The food was better than Ray's, I realized. As I happily ate, I suddenly felt a familiar prickling at the back of my neck, similar to the one I had felt two weeks ago. I turned around and scanned the room. No one was watching me.

A little unnerved and shrugging off my thoughts, I noticed that most of the newsies in the diner had crowded around Jack and Spot's table, along with Bryan Denton. They were talking excitedly and I wondered what was going on. I listened in, which wasn't too hard, because only a couple of newsies were talking.

It was easy to figure out what was going on. Everyone knew that people weren't going to take them seriously. It was true, I thought. Pulitzer was a big figure in New York and a bunch of boys (and girls) were, or would seem to the public, harmless unless they did something big enough to be noticed and taken seriously.

"…like a rally," Jack was saying enthusiastically. "A newsie rally with all the kids from all over New York. It'll be the biggest, loudest, nosiest blow-out this town's ever seen!

I smiled inwardly as everyone talked amongst themselves. Pulitzer definitely couldn't ignore a rally as big as Jack was talking about. It was easy to see how Jack became the leader of the Manhattanners. It was as if easy friendship and trust came to him as easily as admiration and fierce loyalty came to Spot.

They toasted to Bryan Denton, who was obviously someone they all were grateful to, with very good reason. Jackal dropped into the seat in font me with a broad grin on his good-looking face.

"You look happy," I stated, leaning back in my seat. Jackal's dark eyes twinkled.

"Of course! The rally's gonna be loads of fun!"

I laughed. For one so tough and brawny, he had such a cute personality. Which was probably why he was so popular with girls.

"You're coming, right?" he asked, suddenly looking worried. I opened my hands in a helpless gesture.

"Do you think anyone would allow me not to come? Of course I'm coming!"

"Good. I betcha Medda's gonna sing for us," he said with happy anticipation.

I remembered the beautiful red-haired woman and how all the newsies seemed to love her. She was going to sing? I had to admire that. I couldn't imagine singing in front of so many people. I'd die.

I left the restaurant after talking with Jackal and stepped outside. The sun wasn't as bright or as hot as before, with a breeze that swept through the streets. I was walking back to the statue to hang out with some of the newsies there when I felt that prickly feeling again.

I ducked into a store and pretended to be looking at some hats while watching, at the same time, the store window. Soon enough, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with dirty brown hair walked quickly past, looking around. I recognized Fire instantly.

I walked out of the store and watched Fire turn the corner of the street. What did he want with me anyway? To bestow another injury? Or just to talk to me?

Well, I wanted to talk to him anyhow. I ran after him and turned the same corner. Then I skidded to a stop. He was gone. But how? I looked around, totally confused and getting the feeling that I was being led around. I frowned and started off to the lodging house again. Maybe I'd meet up with him later.

I had only taken a few steps when Fire suddenly appeared right in front of me as he stepped out from the alley on my right, towering over me by a good two heads. I was so startled that I jumped back. He looked positively murderous.

* * *

**A/N: **Cliff-hanger? I don't know. This chapter might have been a trite boring, but I promise the next one will be more fun. Oh yeah, I cut out the King of New York song at Tibby's, as I thought having them suddenly dance around and sing on tables and such would seem a little…strange.

Okay, I was wondering about something. What do you guys think Ace looks like? I was looking around for someone (like an actress or singer or some celebrity) who matches her, but it's pretty hard. So I want your opinions on what you think Ace should look like. From what you know of her through this story, what kind of description would match her? I'm really interested to know what you guys think.

The reviews wereand are really great! So thank you all, they certainly were a large part of inspiring me to write!

**Next chapter:** Ace will, of course, talk to Fire and doodoodoo, stuff happens. I haven't really planned it out, but I'm sure ideas will come to me.


	10. Encounters

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note:** Okiday, next chapter! This is also one of those in-betweens, but has some action and encounters in it, so I hope you enjoy! Oh yes, as I was talking about the girl to fit Ace, here are two of the girls I picked.

http/(slash)www.geocities.jp/kosmeokanai/aceofhearts.htm -Which one do you think is better?

**Disclaimer:** Ace, Fire, Smoke, Trek, are mine. AAAAALLL mine! Everyone else belongs to Disney. Yeah.

Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

"Uh…hi." I looked up at him with mixed thoughts. Was he gonna beat me into a pulp? Threaten me? Pretend nothing happened? 

He glared at me and I wondered whether he was trying to intimidate me or was really angry about something. I admit that I was a little surprised at his sudden appearance, but I didn't really feel any fear. Anyway, he wouldn't try anything now, considering how close to the lodging house we were.

At least, so I figured.

With this in mind, I went straight to the point. Maybe being blunt would throw him off.

"Did you shoot a stone at me yesterday?" I asked casually, as if talking about what he ate for lunch or how the sky was so blue today. He looked so astonished that I nearly laughed, but I swallowed the humor down and kept my face straight. Then he instantly masked his expression and became defensive.

"No," he muttered shortly. Then he quickly asked, "Why?"

"So you did!" I exclaimed, enjoying his confusion. He stared and then I decided to get serious. I wanted to make peace, not make Fire seem like a fool. (Well, he didn't need me for that…)

"Why did you?" I asked. Fire muttered something under his breath, but I didn't catch it. Frowning, I continued, "Why hold a grudge that was your own fault in the beginning?" I bit my lip. I hadn't wanted to say that. Fire's expression immediately became sullen and angry.

He scowled darkly, his dark eyes glaring again. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him and took a deep breath.

"Honestly, don't you think that's a bit childish?"

He scoffed and I got the feeling that the conversation was starting to go downhill.

"You try so hard t'sound so high and mighty, but it's not working," he retorted.

I groaned and smacked a hand against my forehead. "That's not what I'm-,"

"Sure," he snapped. "Runnin' to Spot all da time, tryin' t'get me into trouble, makin' me-"

"Shut up, will you? And listen," I tried not to fling the words at him. "What I want to know is _why _you threw that stupid stone and _why _you still hold a grudge over me, not what you don't like about me. And all of what you just spouted isn't true," I added quickly.

Fire growled, shook his head, and moved to push past me, but I stayed where I was, blocking his way.

"Fire, wait," I said earnestly, inwardly feeling like I wanted to knock some sense into him. "Can't you get over it? I hate all this animosity, it's making Spot think I can't deal with my own problems. I mean…it's not much of a big deal. Hey, I'll even apologize for whatever I did, if that'll make you happy," I finished and instantly felt like I was groveling. I lifted my chin and stared at him, waiting for a nasty response. It certainly came.

Fire sneered in my face. "Just leave Brooklyn and I'll be happy."

I closed my mouth and swallowed whatever I was about to say. Right then and there, I decided that I probably couldn't do anything about the whole wretched thing. He was such a brainless idiot. I glared at him and clenched my right fist, seriously considering punching his face in like I did the first time I met him, though I'll probably end up hitting him the wrong way and end up with an aching fist. He wouldn't dare swing back, with newsies so nearby, as I knew. Newsies who beat up girls were looked down on with total and complete disgust and contempt. (**A/N:** Yeah, Priscilla (pmochizuki), I took that rule from your fic, hope you don't mind.)

HAH in his face, I thought snobbishly.

We stood there for one tense moment and glared at each other.

Finally, Fire snorted, shook his head, and managed this time to shove me away. Stumbling, I caught myself just in time and didn't stop him as he stormed away without a second glance.

I was seething. After all I said, he practically threw it back in my face. He wasn't going to let up? Fine, I thought grimly. I had made the first step towards making peace, if he wasn't going to do the same…well, I'm just going to leave it as that. His loss. I felt positively nasty as I stalked back to Manhattan. Fire had serious issues, I decided.

I walked on towards the lodging house, feeling a weird mixture of anger, depression, and indignation. If Fire stirred up more trouble, what was Spot going to say? What was he going to do? Instead of grimacing though, I felt strangely satisfied. Fire deserved what would come from Spot if he tried another attempt like yesterday.

I thought over why I had been so reluctant about Spot dealing with Fire before. Pride? Embarrassment of getting into trouble so much? A weird sense of independence? Pity for Fire? I'm sure it wasn't _that_.

Or maybe it was all of that.

My thoughts were so deep that I didn't notice a tall girl walking towards me until she called. I looked up in surprise, stared, recognized the girl as a Brooklynite, and then greeted her. I knew the face, but couldn't remember the name.

The girl looked amused. "Ace, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, thinking hard to try to remember who she was. Something about a snake or…

"I'm Pithon, in case you obviously don't remember," she said. She was being sarcastic, but there was no trace of unfriendliness on her face. I pushed away all my murderous thoughts of Fire and tried to concentrate on what was happening now.

"Anyways," she said casually, "We girls go back to Brooklyn today. Spot's orders."

"Really?"

Pithon didn't bother to answer that. "Y'can go back yourself or with us," she said. "Your choice." With that, she left me without a word, like the way Fire had, except without the storming.

"Thanks," I called and turned right around. I wanted to get back to Brooklyn (which, I realized, I thought as home now) quickly, even if I was probably going to be pretty much alone there. I needed to think things over. I wanted to rest as well, as tomorrow was going to be one long day…

It was around half past three now, but the days were growing shorter so I knew it would soon grow dark. The street became steadily crowded as I walked on towards Brooklyn Bridge and into the market place. Lots of venders and stores were open, selling food and materials. Women bustled to and fro, baskets hanging from their arms as they talked cheerfully and bought things for their homes or for themselves.

Watching them, I suddenly felt a sudden pang of a strange emotion I wasn't familiar with. I was seventeen and my birthday was coming up only in a few weeks. Eighteen. Was I going to be a newsie all my life? Being on and off the streets and scraping just enough money for food? Selling newspapers for a living? Well, I know that most of the girls at Brooklyn either figured they'd marry someone with money enough to support them or somehow work their way up. Some of them dreamed about leaving New York and some of them didn't think about the future at all. I admit I had been one of the ignorant, live-for-the-moment ones, but I was suddenly worried.

What was I gonna do with my life?

Feeling officially disturbed, I hastened my pace. Things like that, I told myself, work out by themselves and are meant to be left alone. You've got enough troubles right now, I berated myself, pulling my tattered cloak around me as a cold breeze swept through the street.

I came out of the market, but it wasn't any quieter. The road was full of rattling carriages, wagons, and horses.

Even with the cold sudden breezes, the sun was hot on my back. I passed a slightly dirty grocery store and that was when I picked out yelling above the noise.

"Leave me alone, you jerks!"

"Not so tough now that Jack's no longer lookin' out fer ya?"

I looked up at the name of the Manhattan leader and stopped, listening.

"Let's see what the refuge does to thievin' newsies, eh?"

Mean laughter followed the comment and I turned towards the voices. What I saw made me bristle. Two dirty young men, maybe around Jack's age or older, had each grabbed an arm of a scrawny young boy of around 10 with messy, sandy-colored brown hair. I frowned and looked around. Nobody was paying them any attention at all.

I looked back at the three and narrowed my eyes. I was reluctant about getting into something that might not be any of my business and into trouble yet again. Who were they anyway? They sure didn't look like newsies, but they didn't look like officers either. If they were officers anyway, I thought sarcastically, they wouldn't be dragging the boy into an alley. Just bullies? Why'd they know Jack?

The boy kicked at one of the men's shins and wrenched one arm free. The taller one angrily threw a punch at the boy, who ducked. The blow caught him in the shoulder and he fell backwards into the alley. The shorter man kicked at him bad-temperedly.

Enough is enough.

I pushed past some people, hurriedly trying to reach them as the boy struggled to get to his feet again. I picked my way across the street, taking care not to get in the way of any carriage or wagon. Finally breaking free of the crowd, I ran towards them at full tilt.

"HEY!" I yelled, furious. They turned around. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" I snapped, shoving the shorter one away from the boy on the ground. The taller one snapped out of his surprise and sneered at me.

"Don't interfere and nothin' happens to you, 'kay? Just turn around and leave," he said and I rolled my eyes at him. There was no way I was going to leave the boy here. Besides, at least I had my back to the street so it wasn't as if I was trapped along with the boy.

"Sure, I will," I replied angrily. The boy got up quickly and the men grabbed him before he could even move. I could tell that their grasps were painful, because the boy winced. He still struggled, trying to get free.

"Let him go. Pick some one your own size," I said, trying to think up a plan to get the boy free. "Who are you anyway? Evil police in disguise?"

"De're da Delanceys brudders," muttered the boy, his breathing heavy as he picked himself up. "Just leave, Ace and get Jack."

My eyebrows furrowed. How did _he _know my name anyway? The Delanceys or whoever they were smirked down at the boy and then the shorter one looked up at me.

"Ace?" he frowned as if in deep thought. Then he grinned nastily. "You're a newsie?"

I snorted. "What do you think?"

He let go of the boy, leaving him with his brother, and started stalking towards me.

"You're gettin' on my nerves," he growled, pointing a bony, dirty finger at me. I gave him a bored look while backing up out into the street. At that moment, the boy wrenched free of the other guy's grasp, who had weakened, and ducked out of the alley. He was gone in a flash. Leaving me with the two guys looking like they had lost their favorite toy and were now gonna take it out on me.

"Hey! You…Morris, you let him go!" snarled the man at his partner, who looked dumbfounded. "This is your fault!" he said, turning to me. The look on his face reminded me of Fire and I shrugged, continuing to back up down into the street.

They would outrun me though, I realized. This wasn't like the fat officer of yesterday and I wasn't much of a runner anyway. Reckless ideas flashed through my mind (tackling them, smashing fruit from the vender next to me into their faces, doing a dance and then run away while they stood there in shock), but I discarded them quickly.

"What do you have against newsies, anyway?" I asked, trying to think. I shifted from one foot to the other as they continued to force me to back down. I felt like I was being watched by two pairs of hawks. Stupid hawks, maybe, but scary ones.

I half expected them to turn to each other and discuss the question, but apparently, all they wanted was to get me. Get me and do what?

"We just take care of them," snickered the shorter one and to my horror, I realized that I was practically being forced into the middle of the street. I threw a panicked look over my shoulder and watched a carriage race by, the horses galloping at top speed. I rammed forwards, trying to get past them, but they forced me back again. I tried not to panic.

"Oh?" I asked, breathing hard. Keep them talking…stall…think, think, think…

"The refuge'll like to hear how you attacked civilians," he snickered like it was one hilarious joke. I wasn't laughing. A wagon rumbled by, missing me by an inch. That did it. I couldn't watch the Delanceys and the street at the same time. And the street seemed a more likely option.

Spinning on my heel, I dashed right across the street. Horses reared in fright and I ducked under them, not listening to the indignant shouts of the driver. Running around carriages, I kept going. I knew I couldn't stop. Mud flew from the ground from the horses' hooves onto my clothes, arms, and face, but I didn't have any time to groan about it.

I finally reached the other end of the street, relieved that I hadn't been squashed flat. Then my smile disappeared as I saw the Delancey's carefully, but quickly making their way towards me.

Groaning, I turned again and ran as fast as I could. Why was I feeling a strong sense of déjà vu? This always just _has _to happen to me. It's always someone chasing me and me running.

Another glance over my shoulder showed my pursuers were hot on my trail. I inwardly cursed the little boy for his great way of saying thanks. I ought to have just left him there. And of course, I thought icily to myself, you wouldn't have the heart to.

My breath was coming out in small gasps when I finally realized that I was actually running towards Brooklyn Bridge. Not that I was anywhere close, I seemed to have been taking a longer way there. Were they still chasing me?

They were. And they were getting close. Joy.

I ducked my head and ran on as the street flashed past my fast steps. Keep running…I distantly noticed that the streets were slowly darkening. I glanced up to see the evening falling. That meant all the newsies must be going inside to their lodging houses. Spot was probably in the Manhattan one.

Now why did I think that? Was I expecting him to come to my rescue as usual? Scoffing at myself, I forced my feet to move faster.

That certainly hardened my resolve. Ignoring the taunting shouts of the Delanceys, I dashed around the darkening streets and neared the Bridge. I had taken about ten steps when I noticed that the insults and yelling threats from the Delancey's had quieted.

I threw another glance over my shoulder and nearly tripped over my own feet when I saw the Delanceys pausing at the other end of the Bridge. I turned around, still running, and they stared at me with a strange look on their faces. It was something like a mixture of fear and surprise. Puzzled, I stopped. There was only a short space between us. Why weren't they crossing the Bridge to get me?

They argued with each other in low voices and I couldn't hear what they said, until Oscar looked up and glared at me. I was tense, ready to run at any moment. Morris didn't look like he understood. I didn't understand either. As I watched, I saw Morris' face change into one of comprehension.

"She Brooklyn?" I heard him ask Oscar, who swore loudly at his brother. My mouth formed an 'oh' of surprise and comprehension. I winced as Oscar spat at the foot of the Bridge and I took a few steps backwards, just in case they decided to charge at me again. Oscar turned to me again with a vehement glare, turned around, and walked off. Morris frowned and followed his brother.

Those two words had explained everything.

On my way back to the Brooklyn Lodging House, I figured it all out. Being Brooklyn had its advantages, I saw now. Probably Spot had once caught the two bullying a Brooklynite. He then had beaten them up and threatened them never to touch his turf or his newsies. A wry smile pulled at my lips. Yeah, that sounded like Spot. I ran a hand through my already messed up hair and sighed.

Heh. He had saved my neck yet again.

Shaking away my disgruntled thoughts, I entered the familiar Lodging House, trudged up the stairs, and climbed into my even more familiar bunk. I lay there in the dim light, staring up at the bottom of Artemis' bunk. I was more tired than I thought.

My thoughts wandered over to the recent events. Okay, forget that little Delanceys' encounter. So Fire was out to get me. I didn't really care, I just had to make sure I didn't get hurt like the last time. Instinctively, my hand went up to the gash on my forehead and I winced. Bad idea to touch it.

Fire hated me, that much was clear. _Why?_ It didn't really seem to make sense. Did I do something that I was ignorant of but he thought I knew? Of course, there was the strong possibility that Fire was just a stupid teen with serious issues. I thought that was it. After all, _he _was the one who had planted that apple on me, _he _was the one who got me into trouble, and _he _was the one who had punched me in the face.

What was that thing he said to me just before the strike? The whole "I can let you in, y'know" set up. Was that supposed to mean anything? Or did he just want me to let my guard down? Well, it didn't work. He was obviously trying to do the same thing that day when Spot had pushed me into the water (I felt another flash of anger at the memory, but I shoved it away. It _had _been my fault. It still made me mad though…) and he had tried to be friendly while I was selling. I thought that was stupid.

And who were the Delancey brothers who had chased me around only a few minutes ago? Why did they know Jack? I closed my eyes. Too many questions…too much stuff happening. Being a newsie certainly is hectic.

I was just starting to feel rather sleepy when I sat up to a sharp _bang_ of the door downstairs. I only had to wait a few minutes to hear footsteps accompanied with loud shouts of laughter. I looked over to see Pithon, Artemis, and Milkshake saunter in, Pithon laughing at something Milkshake had said. Artemis seemed to be in one of her moods; she was silent and had this un-expressionless look on her face. Probably Jackal had set her temper off or something.

A split second later they noticed me, glanced at each other, grinned, and then they were talking.

"Heard about Fire. Dat's a nasty gash he gave you!"

"Yeah, overheard Spot talking about it to Sparrow," added Milkshake with a grin. I stared at them both and fell back on my bed with a groan. Milkshake's mischievous face loomed over me and I snickered suddenly. It was just funny to see someone loom over you with the look Milkshake had on her face now. Or maybe being tired just made me hysterical. (**A/N:** Honestly, for me and my friends, I get hysterical when I'm tired…)

"Spot told Sparrow to kinda watch Fire. Make sure he doesn't cause any more trouble or something," she said.

I mused over this. Well, I was actually glad about that. Sparrow was a really smart kid and had this gift of not looking like he was looking at you. Yeah, confusing, but it's true. Very observant guy and knows what to say and what not to say. Speaking of which…

I narrowed my eyes at Milkshake. "Who else did you tell?"

Her green eyes widened into an expression of innocence. "No one. Figured you wouldn't want a big deal made outta it."

I breathed out in relief. "Good. Thanks," I added gratefully and Milkshake's face lit up with another of her infectious grins. Pithon, being the random and rather short attention spanned person she was, had already left the room.

Artemis was muttering something under her breath while she roughly jerked past Milkshake to climb up to the bunk above me. I raised an eyebrow at Milkshake, who simply rolled her eyes and mouthed the word Jackal. Ah. So I was right.

"So why didn't you let Spot just deal with Fire?" Milkshake asked, going back to the subject. I shrugged.

"Just…well, I guess I think I'm being a burden to Spot. I mean, he keeps having to get me out of trouble," I mumbled, wondering whether Milkshake would understand. She cocked her head and her eyes twinkled.

"You mean you're just too proud," she snickered and I shrugged again, feeling my face grow red. Proud…well, maybe. But that's not the word I'd use. More like…I don't know. But not proud.

"Spot's da leader, Ace," she continued, still looking amused. "It's his job to make sure there's no trouble."

"Yeah, I guess," I answered vaguely. She might think that, but I didn't. Thankfully, I didn't have to answer Milkshake's inquisitive look as Cat walked in with her usual smooth, soundless steps. She completely ignored the surprised look on our faces (though I'm sure she noticed it) and headed for her bunk.

Suddenly, the whole floor shook as Artemis jumped back down from the bunk and face me. Her face was tight with anger, but I had a feeling it wasn't toward me. Milkshake shifted out of the way.

"Okay, what would you say if a person stole somethin' from you?"

I blinked. "Heh…I'd probably say something he wouldn't like."

"Right? That's about all you'd say, wouldn't it?"

I was getting confused, but I answered, "Maybe, but it depends on what he stole."

Artemis whirled around and stalked out the door. Milkshake watched her and then turned back to me.

"What was that all about?" I asked. Milkshake shrugged and went for her own bunk.

"She stole something from Jackal," she said, lying down. "Jackal kinda lost it and they ended up in a fight. Artemis probably feels guilty about it and doesn't want to show it."

I grinned at that. How very true and characteristic of Artemis. I glanced at Cat, her face calm and impassive as usual as she sat at her usual spot at the window sill. Not for the first time, I wondered what she was thinking all the time.

Well, I didn't do much after that, just talk a bit of the upcoming rally with Milkshake. We ate dinner, but even that was a quiet affair. Everyone seemed just a bit tired, the excitement of the strike wearing off into weariness. But I knew they were all looking forward to tomorrow night.

As for me…well, I was excited about it, yes. But at the same time, I didn't like the thought of all the newsies who were going to be there. I never liked being in a crowd and just the thought of all those newsies crowded into Medda's place, large as it is, made me wince. But, if it was going to be a blast like everyone said, it would be worth it.

* * *

"Ace. Girl, get up."

The voice was like a persistent buzz at the back of my head, but I ignored it and started to fall back into my pleasant dreams.

"Ace…"

_Fire was pleading on his knees, begging for me to forgive him. I was suddenly10 inches taller and he 10 inches shorter. I towered over him, grinning mercilessly at the pitiful look on his face. _

"ACE, YA LAZY BUM, GET YERSELF OFF DA BED AND GET UP!"

The yell in my ear jerked me out of my sleep and I shot up _again_ to bang my head on the bunk above me. Someone laughed and I carefully laid back, clearly and precisely cursing whoever had thought of two story bunks.

"Well, you should have seen Artemis do it," snickered Pithon, for it was her laughing her head off next to me. "She'd scream and swear so much that we finally gave her the upper bunk. As you can see."

I threw myself off the bunk and glared at it. "Sure, but she didn't have a huge gash on her head."

Pithon shrugged. "At least it got you awake. C'mon, you've slept 'till lunch already."

Groaning, I grabbed my usual cloak and my hat. Pithon watched me with an interesting-but-not-trying-to-look-interested look on her face.

"Where'd you get that old thing anyway?" she asked, indicating to my cloak. I glanced down at it and shrugged.

"I've always had it," I replied smoothly. "Just one of those things."

Pithon didn't press the question. "'Kay, get some food. The girls are outside, just hanging out and talking. Oh yeah."

I jammed my hat onto my hair. "Yeah?"

Pithon grinned. "Cat and I decided to have a friendly fight. Might be…interesting for you to see."

My eyebrows shot up. "Cat and you?"

"Yeah."

"Friendly, fights, and you. Those three words don't make sense in one sentence," I muttered and Pithon grinned again.

"Also, da boys'll be comin' back soon," she said, still grinning. I nodded absentmindedly and then looked back at her. I frowned.

"What?"

Pithon's grin disappeared and she gave me an innocent look. "What what?"

"What's that grin on your face supposed to mean?"

"What grin?"

I gave her a suspicious look and she simply saluted playfully at me before leaving. Sighing, I walked over to the washroom. I splashed cold water on my face and then ran down the stairs. Skipping, as usual, over the one that creaked, I jogged outside and went towards the docks.

The day was unbelievably dismal. It was one of those days when the sky is a dull, cold grey and you feel like it's going to rain at any moment, but it doesn't. Well, I know the weather wouldn't do anything to dampen the excitement about tonight's rally.

I reached the docks within minutes and greeted the girls. At least, the ones who would reply back. Pithon was talking, well, trying to talk to Cat. Ob and Sodapop were Indian wrestling and the rest of the girls were just lounging near the water. I joined Milkshake, who was stretching herself. She gave me a sidelong look and I knew that she was gonna say something abrupt and totally random.

"Can you fight?"

I was caught off guard. "Well…why?"

"I never saw you fight."

"I've never seen _you_ fight," I replied and Milkshake grinned.

"Well, true. Just thought I'd warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"Well, rally tonight. Dose kinds of big huge gatherings always has some kind of little trouble. Always. Someone gets soaked by somebody."

I shrugged. "I'll stay out of it."

Milkshake laughed. "Well, y'just seem to always get into a mess."

"I guess."

The conversation, so suddenly started, fell back into comfortable silence again. It was amusing, because I didn't answer Milkshake's question at all. Talk between newsies usually turned out this way. Or maybe it was just me.

It was only a few minutes after that when Cat and Pithon started their 'friendly fight.'

Milkshake told me it was like practice for the both of them. I sized them up. Pithon was the taller of the two and well-muscled from hard work. I had no doubts about her being a good street fighter. Cat, I had no idea. She was all round smaller than Pithon and finer-boned, but I knew that didn't really mean anything.

First off, Cat and Pithon spitshaked.

Milkshake explained the crude rules to me. If one of them fell, the exercise finished with the one standing as the leader. Any contact to the face should not be with full force. No deliberate injuries that are meant to really, really hurt you. And they both have to acknowledge that this was just an exercise and nothing else.

I still thought it was dangerous…but no one's going to listen to me anyway.

I watched as the two girls separated and got to their places.

"So, you know, if I hurt you," Pithon quipped, "No hard feelings. Just a little practice for tonight. Limbers me up, you know."

Cat gave her a thin sort of smile, but didn't say anything.

Pithon grinned back, but I could tell she was a bit unnerved. Not most people can pull off the cool, thin, emotionless smile the way Cat could.

Nevertheless, Pithon shifted her feet and got into her fighting position. Cat's shoulders sort of hunched over a little, looking very…feline. The girls around me still weren't really gathering around to watch, but they continued doing whatever they were doing (card games, talking, etc). They were obviously used to this.

The Japanese-American girl was the one who struck first, with sudden high kicks aimed for Pithon's shoulder. They were meant to tip her off balance, but Pithon simply dodged and came up nearer to Cat. I watched in interest as Pithon instantly threw an uppercut, but Cat blocked it. Pithon sprang back as Cat suddenly whirled, flinging an arm up.

The taller girl cursed as Cat's arm slammed against her jaw, but she managed to block the next blow. She sent a roundhouse punch at Cat, following it with her other arm. Cat received the first punch rather hard, but ducked the next one.

With one smooth motion, Cat grabbed Pithon's arm, twisted, and flung her over her shoulder and onto the ground. My mouth dropped in complete surprise. Pithon gave a short 'oof' as her breath was knocked out of her at the hard landing.

Cat quickly stepped back. Pithon coughed and glared up at her. "That was low."

Milkshake was laughing next to me. "Neat one, Cat!" she said, looking evilly gleeful at Pithon's disgruntled look. The tall, blonde girl looked miffed, but she picked herself up without any more complaints.

Cat had absolutely no expression of triumph on her face. Just a calm, measuring look.

"Do you want another round?" she asked quietly. Pithon winced and shook her head.

"Nah, I think I hurt something when you flung me down," she said jokingly. Cat nodded and walked away without another word. Pithon watched her go and then looked at us.

"She needs to liven up."

"Yeah," Milkshake replied. "But she's real quick."

Pithon made a face. "Yeah. I figured."

She sighed and cracked her neck. "I really think I pulled something."

"Hey look!" Milkshake said, pointing. Pithon and I turned and saw Spot, Pike, and Jackal sauntering over. I felt myself smile automatically in greeting along with the two girls and inwardly groaned. Spot…I wasn't in the mood to talk with him right now. I mean, he may be a great leader and all and I know I was thankful about the whole Fire thing, but I just…didn't feel like talking to him.

"Hey girls," Pike called, waving. Milkshake went red all the way up to her hairline. Well, I suppose love does that to you. Make you blush, that is.

Jackal grinned at us and then went to Artemis, who was looking over the water and hadn't seen them. I watched as Artemis turned as he greeted her, said something quietly to him, and then stormed off. Jackal looked lost.

"What happened?" Spot was asking, indicating to the bruise on Pithon's face. She shrugged.

"Practiced with Cat."

Spot's eyes skimmed over her, moved to Milkshake, then to me (I stared back), and settled back on Pithon.

"You lost," he said, the smirk I knew so much growing on his face as Pithon glared at him. "But," he continued, "Not everyone has a fighting style like Cat."

Pithon nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

Spot's eyes rested on me again. I felt myself tense. "So, Ace, ready for tonight?"

I focused on the tiny bug crossing over my foot. "Yeah."

"There's gonna be trouble."

I looked up at him. "You think so?"

Spot shrugged and leaned against the crates next to him. "I get the feeling dere is." His mouth tightened for a second. "Somehow, I can't believe Pulitzer's just gonna let dis go. News of dis must have come to him."

"Well," I muttered. "What's gonna happen's gonna happen."

Spot looked amused. "Sure, but you ready for it?"

I felt irritation rise in my throat. "Well, what do you want me to do? Carry a gun in my pocket? Learn how to fight? 'Cos I can't, and you know it."

Spot still looked amused. "Well, who says you can't?"

I shook my head and felt the other two girls watching me. "You know I can't."

Spot played with his cane and said in nonchalantly, "You can learn. Right now."

I stared. "What?" I gasped out, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

"C'mon," he said, straightening and putting his cap on the crate. "Let's start."

My mind switched off and went completely, utterly, and absolutely blank.

* * *

**A/N:** I meant to have the rally, but I figured it'll take a little too long, so next chapter. Yeah, I think it won't take as long to update. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I actually didn't really like the way the whole Delancey encounter turned out, but I guess it's okay. Thanks for reading, all of you, you have NO idea how much your reviews mean to me! 

By the way, http/(slash)www.geocities.jp/kosmeokanai/aceofhearts.htm, those Ace pics? I'm not really sure about it, so go ahead make more suggestions about other likely girls, okay? So it's not just them. But tell me which one you think is better though. :D


	11. The Rally!

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note:** Whew! This chapter is really long, perhaps one of my longest. I'm not quite sure I'm happy with it though and I feel like something's wrong around the rally bit, but then again, I tend to be really critical about my own stuff. Oh yeah…I'm sorry for being so fickle, but I found yet another girl for Ace…I think I picked her above Alexis and Avril. There you go:

http:(slash)(slash)www.geocties.jp/kosmeokanai/aceofhearts.htm

**Disclaimer:** Ace, Fire, Smoke, Swipes, Lil, and Trek, are mine. AAAAALLL mine! Everyone else belongs to Disney or to the great readers/former readers of this story.

Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

I feebly searched around for an excuse, for a reason, for _anything _to decline Spot's 'kind' offer, but nothing came to mind. I glanced at Milkshake and Pithon, who grinned before walking away. I felt like calling to them, telling them not to leave me alone with Spot, but they obviously weren't going to do anything of the sort. I turned back to Spot, who was still waiting. I sighed and reminded myself of my resolution to at least pretend to be nicer to Spot.

"Okay," I said, standing up, "But don't expect me to be a fast learner," I added quickly.

Spot smiled. I knew what a fast fighter he was, especially after that incident with Swiper at Medda's party. So I ought to be happy to get to learn stuff from him, who was probably one of the best. But I was more uncomfortable than happy.

I stood there nervously as Spot gave me a scrutinizing look from my head to toe. He looked serious, but I wasn't too sure. Maybe he knew that I'd get mad if I saw any trace of humor in his face. After all, I already felt somewhat humiliated.

"So," he said. I tried not to look sullen. "Someone punches at you. What do ya do."

I shrugged. "Duck."

His fist came in a calculated arc towards my face. It was slow, so I was able to easily duck down and avoid it. Spot was smiling now, but I knew he wasn't laughing at me. I smiled tentatively back, feeling a little better.

"Okay, good, but dis is another way. Throw me a punch."

I gave him an uncertain look. He grinned. "I know you can punch; I saw that shiner on Fire dat day, remember?"

I felt myself grin back at the memory and took a deep breath before hooking a fast right. He flung up an arm to block it. The impact of his arm against mine nearly knocked me off balance and I felt myself flush an even deeper red. There. I made a fool out of myself. I hope he was happy.

Spot was no longer grinning and had a calm, serious expression on his face. "Nice one." And then he went into explaining how my arm should be in a straight line with my wrist, how I should allow strength from my shoulder to be the main force behind the bunch, how my fingers should be placed, and etc. He paused after I had sent him another quick punch at his bidding and looked at me with a smirk. "I thought you just said you couldn't fight?"

"I…ah…," I stumbled for words. "I can't. I mean, I guess I meant I can't up to your standards." I sighed inwardly. Spot always made me sound like a fool.

"We had lots of, eh, misunderstandings at the orphanage. And I also lived on the streets a couple of years," I hastened to explain as he raise his eyebrows. "You pick up little things."

He smiled again, but this time I simply couldn't read what he was thinking (well, when can I?) and then he nodded as if saying, 'Okay. I'll accept that.' I watched as he flexed his arm.

"Well, dats how ya punch. Now blockin'. Da way I jus' did. Just tighten the muscles in your arm so the impact gets absorbed, den you push in just da right way."

Without wasting another word, he threw another arcing punch towards my face. I tried following Spot's example by throwing up my left arm and the shock jarred up all the way to my shoulder down to my toes. Almost instinctively, my right arm flew up in an uppercut. Don't ask me why, but it just felt like the natural thing to do.

Spot sprang back with lightening reflexes, but to my complete amazement, my fist clipped his jaw slightly and there was an audible click as his teeth slammed together. He blinked and then looked at me with this queer look. I gaped, stared, bit my lip, looked away, and then burst out laughing.

I could sense Spot narrow his eyes at me, but I couldn't help stop the laughter from pealing out. The shocked, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on _Spot's_ face had been priceless! In my mind, Spot was always the cool, calm, and collected guy who I could never get through, but man, that **look**!

The next thing I knew, something hooked itself behind my ankle and tugged slightly, but it was enough for me to completely lose my balance. I yelped and went toppling backwards into the pile of fishing nets behind me. I didn't hit the ground too hard, but it more or less knocked the breath out of me, cutting my laughter abruptly. I winced and frowned at Spot. He was chuckling now.

"Well, at least dat got you to stop."

I felt myself smile despite myself. "You're just miffed I got you."

Spot shrugged. "It was a lucky punch and it only got me because I wasn't expectin' it at all. Once in a lifetime thing." His lips tugged upwards. "Well, it's not happenin' again."

For a second, we both knew that the tension that had always between us had lessened. It didn't disappear, but it did lessen. At least, I wasn't glaring and I was actually smiling back at him, so I guess that was a step towards the right direction.

To my surprise, which I knew he saw all too plainly, he reached down to help me get up. I paused a little at this sudden gentleman-ly action from Spot and then took his hand to pull myself up. I noticed briefly at how cold his hand was in mine and then went red. I told myself there was no way he could have read that thought off my mind…but then who knows with Spot?

"Thanks," I quickly let go in a pretense of brushing imaginary dirt off my clothes with my hands. Spot's smile was gone when I looked up, but it was replaced with his usual calm, impassive look which I wasn't sure whether I hated or not.

In the next few minutes, Spot had told me how to throw a correct uppercut (he claimed that the one I had just caught him with wasn't correct), where an opponent is the most vulnerable, and all these little tips and techniques he knew and I really didn't understand. It was more than obvious that he was holding back and that he was being very careful not to hurt me, but I didn't mind as much as I thought I would. I was a lot more relaxed than before, though and I admit that it was fun learning all this.

Of course, 'fun' didn't mean I wasn't tired when I got back to the Brooklyn Lodging House. Sher and Sodapop were the only ones there, the both of them lying on their beds and happily snoring away.

I glanced at the old pocket watch hanging over Milkshake's bunk post. The rally was starting at six tonight and if Milkshake's watch worked, which I highly doubted, I had about three hours to kill. An hour or so of sleep sounded nice…

* * *

I woke up with a start, as if something had jerked me out of sleep. Thankfully, I didn't shoot up to hit the top bunk again. I turned and saw nearly all the Brooklyn girls doing something or another in the room. Artemis was whistling a strange melody which I knew she made up, Milkshake was shaking her pocket watch up and down in an effort to make it work, and Ob was swearing loudly because she couldn't find her hat.

"Da foist thing I'm gonna do when-," started Sodapop happily as she tried to comb out the tangles in her hair.

The whistling abruptly stopped and I sighed as I went for the washroom. Time to get ready.

"If you even dare finish dat sentence one moah time, I'm gonna soak you so bad dat you can't go to da rally tonight!" Artemis' hiss, quiet as it was, was threatening enough for me to know that I ought to stay out of her way tonight. Jackal had probably ticked her off again.

"Okay, okay, no need t'lose yoah tempah like dat…," Sodapop mumbled, yanking at one particular spot in her brown hair. I went off towards to the washroom, half-laughing.

We all wanted to look our best for the rally, because of the many newsies coming from all over New York. Even Cat was scrutinizing herself in her usual calm, impassive way.

I wrinkled my nose at my reflection in the cracked mirror in front of me. The slowly healing gash on my forehead was painfully obvious and I frowned. I hated this 'stage' when, you know, cuts and stuff begin to scab over. So disgusting.

I splashed water onto my face, wiping gently around the gash. I narrowed my eyes at a streak of dirt on my chin and furiously rubbed at it until it came off. I ended up with my skin looking red. I sighed again. I was never good at appearances.

There wasn't much to do really. Not that I had nothing to improve (I _knew _I hated practically every feature I had), but I couldn't really do anything about it. I haphazardly ran a hand through my dark brown hair in an effort to smooth it out, but it was hopeless, because it simply came out looking wildly uncontrollable. I hastily flattened it down with water before anything worse happened.

I returned to my bunk to grab my cloak and shook it out, sending dust and little particles of dried dirt wooshing into the air. Milkshake coughed and shot me an annoyed look, but she soon returned to trying to fix her watch again.

I was proceeding in gathering my hair together as I always did, except in a cleaner way this time, when I heard light footsteps coming from the boys' room. Everyone else was busy to really care, but I looked up from where I was sitting on my bunk. Spot's lean form came in view and he leaned against the door frame, watching the bustle with amusement through the wide-open door.

He lightly tapped the floor with his cane to get our attention, which he easily got.

"Let's go," he said simply. I looked at him closely. His hat was off and his dirty-blonde, darkish-streaked hair suspiciously looked like it had been combed. Well. At least I knew that it wasn't just the girls who were picky about how they looked tonight. He nodded to us and then walked down the stairs.

I felt another tingling of excitement. At first I had not altogether looked forward to the rally, but now I couldn't wait. Call me fickle, but I was just like that. Just think of all the newsies from The Queens, Bronx, West Side, Harlem, and, of course, Manhattan…and other boroughs which I really wasn't informed about. They were all coming and it was all for just one cause. I smirked a little as I wondered what _they _were thinking about us Brooklynites going to the rally.

Enough with that, I told myself fiercely. This was for the strike, for Jack, and for all of us. It was going to be fun, yeah, but the real purpose for the rally was for us to be too much of a united voice for Pulitzer to handle. Not for me to feel all good about being in the most powerful borough in New York. Anyway…I felt a flare of humor, I was becoming arrogant…a sure sign of my becoming a Brooklynite.

I shrugged on the cloak and grabbed for my hat. I brushed it off and firmly placed it down on my head. I ran downstairs and out of the Lodging House, to find Spot waiting alone, which wasn't that much of a surprise, because he liked being early, but I stopped short anyway.

He turned towards me as I barged out, his hands in his pockets. We just looked at each other for some time, waiting for someone to speak. I forced myself to remember how surprisingly nice he was earlier so I gave Spot a smile that I hoped looked friendly. He didn't look startled, but I think he was, because he didn't give his usual I-knew-it-all-along smirk back. He turned away and took one hand out of his pockets to fiddle with the golden top of his cane.

"Y'ready?" he asked quietly without looking at me, his breath making white mist in the cold air. I shot him a sidelong glance and answered an affirmative. He didn't smile, he didn't smirk, and he didn't do anything.

For a while, we stayed in a silence that was horribly stifling to me. Spot seemed perfectly fine, looking up at the growing, still-dim stars, but I was tense and waiting for him to say something. It was like watching for a hammer to fall on me or something, because Spot always said the most unexpected things that always somehow ruffled my feelings. The silence grew long until I felt I couldn't bear it anymore.

"Do you think it'll be crowded?" I blurted suddenly, causing Spot to glance at me with raised eyebrows. I felt like an utter fool. My voice had sounded too loud in my ears. And of course it was going to be crowded. You _know _it was going to be crowded. Spot gave me a look full of an expression I completely couldn't read.

"Yeah," he answered shortly and I flushed, looking down at the ground and jamming my hands into my pockets while bitter thoughts raced through my head. Where was that slight friendliness I had felt towards him earlier on this afternoon? Wherever it was, it was far, far away...

I was spared from further embarrassment as I heard a loud pounding of the others charging down the stairs. Spot smiled a little, tipped his hat to me, and strode down the street. I made a face at his back and waited for the rest, before following.

As I said, Spot liked being early. That was why we arrived at Medda's place perhaps half an hour before everyone came. The last time I came, it had already been crowded because Medda's party had been in full gear.N owI was struck by the stark emptiness. The hall was huge and the lack of people made it seem enormously vacant.

"Hey Spot!"

Jack strolled over from where he had been speaking to Medda. Spot's grey eyes flickered over to him and he smirked a little, but it didn't grow.

"Heya Jack," Spot said, striding towards the tall Manhattan leader. I watched them spitshake and Spot nodded to us. We went off our separate ways, some of us heading towards the Manhattaners and the others sort of wandering around the vacant hall.

Race spotted me and called me over, where he was helping set up more chairs and tables with Skittery and Mush. I began to help too, but Skittery wouldn't have any of it and snatched away the chairs I had picked up. I looked up sharply at his towering form in surprise.

"Girls shouldn't go 'round carryin' tables an' chairs," he stated darkly and carried the chairs towards his table. I blinked, unable to make up my mind whether I thought that it was sweet of him to do something like that or that he was making some form of insult.

"Hah," I declared and began helping out anyway. Race laughed good-naturedly and began wiping the tables. I paused, surprised at how carefully he was cleaning the wooden tables. I had never expected Race to be the nitpicky type.

"Medda told us to," he said, answering my questioning look. He scowled so fiercely and it didn't suit his usual cheekiness at all so I couldn't help but laugh. "More like threatened really," he continued, She wanted da tables clean. We told her dey was gonna to get dirty anyways, but she'd have none of it."

I grabbed two more chairs and smiled at him innocently, "Yes, and I suppose the fact that you'd do anything Medda'll tell you has nothing to do with it, right?"

Racetrack just grinned back and went off to the next table. Mush came back for more chairs, his face set in concentration to his task. Even with the serious look however, his soft features still looked friendly as ever. I greeted him and he answered with a smile that lightened up his face so brightly that I couldn't help but notice again one of the many differences between Manhattanners and Brooklynites. While they answered with a smile,Brooklynites just answer with a dark scowl or a noncommittal nod. Of course, not all of us did; I could never scowl without looking strangely like I had a toothache.

Spot soon had the rest help out and before long, the place was full of empty seats and bare tables. By then, the Queens had come. I managed to meet up with Shooter and Professor again, which was nice, but I couldn't stay long to talk to them because Milkshake called me over to sit at her table with Pike and Sodapop.

Food and drinks were on one long table at the side and, as I walked over to get some, I realized this had to be Medda's doing, especially the drinks. There was no way any of us could afford that large a quantity of rootbeer (Spot had been saddened there was 'no beah? No beah at all?').

Then came the many newsies from Bronx, then Harlems, and the next thing I knew, Medda's place was just as full and as crowded as I had imagined it to be. The Bronx were a loud bunch, very raucous and somewhat rude. Of course, that was just my first impression of them and that could be because one huge guy who looked well into his twenties with beetle-y eyebrows had bowled me over and had continued on his way without even seeing me on the floor. I had scrambled up quickly before anyone noticed me, but Spot had seen and motioned for me to get to back to my table.

I quickly got my rootbeer and went quickly back to Milkshake, self-consciously pushing my way past a small group of guys from West Side talking. Guys usually didn't make me nervous, but somehow these West Side newsies did, especially when they were eyeing everyone around them like that.

I sipped my rootbeer and watched as more and more newsies trickled through the door in a steady stream. Some of them were as young as Lil (yes, I met up with her as well, though thankfully I saw no signs of her brother) while others, like the guy who had sent me sprawling, were in their twenties. But the majority was teenagers and not all of them seemed very friendly. Still, no fights had broken out so far and most of them were talking, meeting up with newsies they had not seen for some time, eating, or drinking.

As soon as everyone, as in _everyone_, was here, Spot and Jack stood up and walked over to the front. We cheered and those two were the few guys every newsie knew, or at least heard about, so they all cheered with us. Jack, a smile on his good-looking face, beckoned a boy out of his side out of the crowd. I watched curiously as the dark, curly-haired boy nervously stumbled near Jack's side.

With a start, I recognized him. He had come with Jack and that little black boy on the day with the news of the strike…and the day Spot had pushed me into the dock water. I flushed a little, no longer feeling irritated and angry as I always used to at the memory, but embarrassed.

I had not heard the curly-haired boy's name, but I waited, knowing sooner or later I would find out. Jack quieted us down and, that huge smile still on his face, raised a fist as if in triumph.

"Carryin' da Banner!' he yelled, his clear voice ringing in the silence loudly.

The answering roar was deafening, like a tidal wave crashing over me with tremendous force. I felt a grim sort of smile grow on my face. I'd like to see Pulitzer try and break a group as unified or as defiant as we were. Denton had promised Jack to print this out on The Morning Sun and _that_ would certainly be a nice little blow against that nasty newspaper giant.

"First off," Jack began as every newsie in the hall listened attentively, "I just wanna thank everyone fer comin'. Dis is gonna hit Pulitzer real hard 'cos he can't do anythin' about us gathering an' having a big, loud rally like dis."

Cheering erupted again as we soaked up Jack's words. Spot just stood at Jack's side, his presence simply radiating power and support. It was as if him being there dared any disagreeing newsie to speak up against Jack.

"We Manhattaners got into a bit of trouble da other day, I'm sure you all know," Jack continued and the slightest of smirks flashed across Spot's face. Jack quickly glanced at him and said, "Brooklyn helped us out and if dey didn't, we'd probably not have gone dis far."

I knew how much he didn't like saying it. Leaders had their pride and Spot had just prodded Jack's with that small smirk. But Jack knew better than to take credit away from Spot.

"But I know," Jack said, regaining his confident smile and charisma from that momentary lapse of humility, "Pulitzer's not gonna let us newsies just win like dat. He's thinks we'll give up easy after he puts up a little more of a fight. But we ain't so soft, are we?"

A loud chorus of "No!" answered that question. Jack's smile turned into a grin and he took up his speech again.

"So, we've come a long way, but we ain't dere yet and maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But dat's fine, we'll just get tougher with it!"

Scattered yells of agreement and some profane insults against Pulitzer rose from Harlems, but we didn't break into another cheer again. We sensed Jack was coming to the main point of his talk.

"But also," he paused and seemed to chose his next words carefully. Yep, he was getting to it, "We gotta get smart an' start listening to my pal David heah," he slung an arm across the curly-haired boy, who smiled nervously, "who says 'stop soakin' da scabs'.

At this, we fell silent, disbelief written in our faces. There were barely any scabs in Brooklyn because of the authority Spot held over us all, but I knew there were plenty in other boroughs. How were they going to keep them in line then? Other than soaking them, the newsies had no other way to stop them from buying papers.

David (so that was his name) began looking uncomfortable at the growing resentment and at the dirty looks being shot in his and Jack's way. As I watched, Spot's smirk disappeared into a pale, cold sort of expression that I knew wasn't good. I knew that one of the things Spot hated the most was scabs, next to traitors, that is. Jackal had told me plenty of stories.

"What are we supposed to do da bums, kiss 'em?" smart-mouthed Race, starting some chuckles, but their humor was short-lived. Spot decided to have his say in this 'save the scabs' thing.

"Hey," Spot began quietly, his voice growing, "Any scab I see, I soak 'em, _period." _His voice cut through the ripples of dissent that had begun to spread. He wasn't quite yelling, but his voice rose a notch. It was as if he was declaring that _no one_, even some smart walking mouth, was going to tell him what to do.

At his words, loud arguments began as some of the newsies started to take sides. Jack tried to keep it down, but Spot's words had fired them up. David frantically took a step closer to Jack and Spot glared daggers at him. To my admiration, David ignored Spot's icy blue stare and spoke up desperately.

"No, no," he said, calling out to all the arguing newsies, "That's what they want us to do. If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands."

His words finally seemed to reach them and they turned suspiciously and looked at Spot, who, strode towards David. Apparently, Spot wasn't too fond of the boy and, for the first time, I saw him actually display anger on his face. I watched with fixed interest at this new side of Spot which I knew had always been there but had never seen.

"Hey, look," his words were bitingly clear and he somehow staring a terrified David down despite his shorter, slighter stature. "They're gonna be playing with my hands, alright."

He put up the hands in question, which caused all the blood drain from David's lips. I heard some chuckles from our side, but then again, being menaced by Spot would probably not be something altogether pleasant.

""Cuz it ain't what they say, it's what we say," Spot said, lowering his hands and I saw a familiar smirk nearly reach his lips, but it quickly disappeared. He turned to the silent, watching newsies, the anger gone from his face and replaced with a cool expression. "And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em," he finished, his steely gaze sweeping over us all.

His eyes seemed to soften when they met mine, but I easily could have just imagined it. Then he tore away his gaze and turned back to stare coldly at David, who was frantically trying to talk everyone down. By this time, protests (against what or who I couldn't tell) and yells of agreement had practically taken over the formerly cooperative boroughs. I didn't join in and silently watched the three standing up there.

I couldn't explain what came over me, but as I studied Spot fervently yelling at the newsies at his side, I felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling which left me quite confused. It was like I finally saw Spot as a real person, you know, and not as some cryptic leader who always sent me into a raging temper or something else entirely. My mind in a whirl, I downed my rootbeer and tried to pay attention to what was going on.

"-street rats with no brains! No respect for nothing, including ourselves!" Jack was shouting, his words finally getting to every arguing newsie. They began to sit back down like sulking children (well, that wasn't actually far from the truth), muttering their unhappiness over the subject. Jack grabbed this chance eagerly.

"So," he began again, "here's how it's gonna be. If we don't act together, den we're nothin'. If we don't stick together, den we're nothin'. And if we can't even _trust_ each other…den we're nothin'!"

These almost insulting words decidedly forced reason into the listeners and I noticed many nods of agreement. I found my gaze drawn back to Spot, who had just been furious, now had a curious, thoughtful look on his face, but he didn't say anything.

"Tell 'em, Jack!" came a call from somewhere from the crowd and Jack finally smiled again, as if relieved at some support at last.

"So, what's it gonna be?" Jack shouted challengingly, but I already knew the answer to it. It depended on Spot. Jack also seemed to realized the same thing and he turned to the slim, silent leader at his side.

"So, what about you, Spot," he asked in a quiet tone and despite his carefully masked face, I saw in his earnest dark eyes that searched Spot's unforgiving icy ones that Jack was practically begging Spot to agree with him, to support him in this, and to not let him down. Spot's eyes narrowed for a second and I knew he hated having to go back on what he had said.

"I say," he finally began, "dat what _you_ say…" The crowd was hushed and we all hung onto his every word. A smirk grew on his face and he relaxed his cold stare before finishing, "is what _I _say."

Trust Spot to say something so confusing for some of the dim-witted ones and their cheers came a split-second later than ours as they took time to figure it out. Jack grinned and spat in his hand. Spot, without hesitation, spat into his own and the two leaders shook firmly, confirming to any of the doubters in the crowd that their union in this was complete. David stood at the side, smiling and beaming happily as if content to not take any credit.

I smiled and began standing up with my glass in my hand to get more rootbeer. The moment I got my feet though, the curtain next to where the three boys were standing rose unexpectedly. In the center stood Medda, clad in a form-fitting pink gown that had on so many frills and ribbons that it looked terribly uncomfortable, but her beautiful smile was genuine in the white spotlight that shone on her.

There goes my chance for more drinks, I thought, as the cheers turned into ear-piercing whistles, applause, and yells of infatuation. Everyone had gotten on their feet the moment Medda had come on stage and, as I looked around at the wild, cheering newsies, there was no way I could pick my way towards the table at the side. I tried to inconspicuously look for Spot and found him edging his way back to the table next to us. I sat back down and tried to enjoy the show.

Medda began singing a chorus of a song and I joined in, knowing the lyrics and the tune vaguely. Milkshake and Sodapop were warbling away, their clear, high-pitched voices only audible to me because I was sitting next to them. Medda sauntered around the hall, her sweet vocals ringing clear and loud as she led us in song. Pike was on his feet with the rest of us, his eyes fixed on the bright pink figure striding past our table. Milkshake snickered and jabbed him in the stomach playfully.

"You look like a love-sick puppy!" she yelled and Pike smirked before quickly giving her a sweet, short kiss full on her mouth. Sodapop and I laughed at the shocked look on Milkshake's face as they broke apart. Pike smiled and then went back to the song. Milkshake stared at him again and grinned suddenly before enthusiastically joining Pike's slightly off-key voice.

"Now who's the love-sick puppy?" shouted Sodapop to me and I grinned.

Medda entered her solo part and we allowed her to sing, though most of the newsies remained on their feet. I coughed and glanced down at my empty glass. Ugh. I really wanted something to drink; all that loud singing had gotten my throat even drier. At least I wasn't losing my voice. I got up and decided to pick my way towards the back of the hall for more rootbeer while everyone (well, the males) remained relatively calm.

It was easier than I expected to reach my destination because the attention was solely on the singing lady and no one gave me no more than glance as I pushed and slipped through the packed crowd. One advantage of being small and scrawny.

I quickly filled my glass and drank the bubbly, sweet drink quickly. I was filling it up once more to carry back when the chorus started all over again. Oh great, now how was I going to get back, what with everyone swaying in beat like they were possessed? I sighed, covered the top of my glass with one hand, and began my way back to my table at the entrance.

I was stuck in a group of Harlem newsies toasting and laughing uproariously and I was striving to slither past them when I stopped short at a piercing whistle that sent the song faltering to a stop. The whistle was blown over again and I felt an uneasy feeling in my gut as I heard some urgent shouts and yells coming from the direction of my table. Alarmed, I sprang up on the Harlem newsies' table despite their protesting shouts and I looked over.

Policemen began flooding the already crowded hall, coming from the direction of the front entrance. I whirled around and my eyes widened at the burly, dirty-looking men slamming their way in from the backdoor. What was going on? I turned back to look over at my table. Milkshake, Pike, and Sodapop were scrambling to get away from the police. What did they want? Were they here to just break up the rally or did they have another reason? The thugs were probably hired by Pulitzer, but what about the police?

I jumped down from the abandoned table and someone promptly rammed into me. My arms flailed wildly as I tried to keep my balance, but whoever it was quickly steadied me and I turned to see Kid Blink smiling apologetically.

"Sorry 'bout dat, didn't see you," he said in a rush of words and then dashed off in another direction, leaving me staring after him. I rubbed my bruised shoulder and then quickly headed for the backdoor. Perhaps I could get out through there. I had taken only a few steps when I realized that some of the newsies had already reached the back door, but they were being flung back in by men posted outside.

I frowned, trying to place what was happening. The police weren't arresting anyone, except for those putting up a fight. They seemed more to just be wanting to keep us in. But really, why? Were they looking for someone? I turned again and ran towards the entrance, which was a bit of a distance ahead. I knew there would be even more police outside, but maybe I could slip out in the confusion.

"Ace!"

I whirled around so quickly and wildly that Spot took a little step backwards in surprise.

"What in the world is going on!" I shouted furiously, but I wasn't really mad at him. I was just angry at feeling so helpless. I stopped short at the sight of two thugs heading towards us. Spot merely glanced at them, grabbed my arm, and began dragging me towards the entrance. I was helplessly pulled along, my eyes darting everywhere at the scene of panic unfolding around me.

Spot let go of me suddenly and ruthlessly slugged down a dirty, lean man who had moved to block his entrance. The man fell heavily with a grunt of pain. Spot moved to grab my arm again when the man grabbed Spot's ankle from where he lay on the ground and yanked. Spot went down with a surprised, uncharacteristic shout and the man was on him in a second, pummeling with bony fists. Spot, however, somehow managed to twist quickly away and sprang back to his feet at the same moment the thug had.

"Get to da entrance!" Spot hissed to me, not taking his steely gaze off from the sneering thug. I hesitated, hating to just _leave _without doing something to help him, but I realized, as Spot gave his full attention on the thug and his lips curled into a vicious sort of smile, he really didn't need my help at all.

I didn't like leaving him, but I nodded (not that he was watching me; he was busy ramming his fist into the other guy's stomach) and ran towards the milling door of the entrance. David appeared out of nowhere, his eyes frantically looking for someone.

"Have you seen Jack?" he practically screamed at me, waving his hands around in a desperate manner. I shook my head and glanced at the entrance he was blocking me from.

"Why?" I asked, looking at the crazy milling of people all around me. David's brown eyes were wide (like a rabbit's, I thought distantly) and he earnestly scanned the hall as he explained.

"They're after him! The bulls, uh, er, the police! Snyder's here too, but we got him with the swing, but he should have recovered by now, but I don't know what happened to Jack, because they're trying to get him, and we have to get him out!"

I had no idea what he was talking about (Who on earth was Snyder and what's all this about a swing?), but I understood enough that Jack Kelly was in trouble and that he was the one the police were apparently looking for.

"Okay," I said impulsively, "I'll help! Where was he last?"

David still didn't make sense. "I only saw him at the swing, he couldn't have gotten caught or else we'd have known!" Then his face changed expressions into one of relief and then horror. "Look!"

I turned and saw Jack himself, nimbly dodging the grasps of the officers and…and of the Delanceys. I felt myself grow pale at their all-too familiar faces, but I knew they wouldn't see me from where I was. What were they doing here? They were after Jack as well?

I resisted the urge to scream. Too much was happening at the same time and I was just so confused. David said something to me, but I couldn't hear him. Then he was gone in a flash, running towards Jack, who was still a bit of a distance away from him.

As I watched, Jack abruptly spun on his heel to head towards the piano. He sprang on it and used it to pull himself gracefully over onto the balcony. I gloated silently at the frustration on the Delanceys' faces. _Show 'em, Jack_, I urged silently and quickly moved towards the entrance at the front of the stairs I was sure Jack would come down from the balcony.

Avoiding the officers and thugs took way too long and when I finally could see the front, Jack was running out the entrance. I hastened to reach it, but then Jack entered back with a panicky look on his face. He then stumbled as a horse, with a guard riding it, ran inside the entrance in a frenzied manner. With such security posted outside, there was no way we could get out, I realized in dismay.

I was sure the backdoor wasn't as guarded. Maybe if Jack managed to go back again? But that was nearly impossible. But it was still a chance, slim as it was.

"Jack!" I yelled, but he didn't hear me. The poor horse reared above him with a frightened whinny and Jack sprang up before it pounded him into the floor. I tried again, but then he was running back up the stairs again. The whole entrance way was packed and I couldn't make a single move.

Suddenly, Jack's way was blocked by a burly, stout thug. The Manhattan leader reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. The thug swung a powerful upper cut that slammed against Jack's jaw with horrible force. I swallowed hard, realizing that it was all over. Jack fell, stunned at the blow. The policemen quickly grabbed him and he was dragged out. Lots of the Manhattaners tried to fight the officers, but they were flung off by the thugs. I swallowed again, watching them leave. The rally was a failure without its leader and I knew without Jack, the strike might as well be over as well.

I slipped out of the crowd as quickly as I could and went back into the hall, deciding to try the backdoor again. I should have stayed there from the beginning, but it had been impossible at the time. I looked around for Spot and didn't see him anywhere. I quickly tripped a thug chasing after a newsie and then started swiftly away as the thug fell. I had no intention of getting chased.

I had taken only a few running steps when I felt someone snag the back of my shirt and jerk me to a sudden stop that caused me to nearly lose my balance. Angrily, I lashed out blindly and whoever had grabbed me let me go. I spun around to face my attacker, ready to bestow pain and injury on whoever it was.

"Well, well, look who it is," snickered Oscar loudly to allow him to be heard over the noise. He grinned a wide, toothy grin and I stared at him, half from fear and half from disgust.

I glanced around quickly and realized with a sinking feeling that even with so many friends around, they were all occupied with their own problems. I couldn't expect any help now. Morris, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. I didn't know what I'd do if I had to deal with the both of them.

I fixed my gaze on Oscar again and sized him up. As I had noticed before, he wasn't very tall for a guy, but still stood half a head taller than me. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, built for strength more than speed. I knew I couldn't allow him to fix a hold on me or I'd never break out of it.

"Ace, wasn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest in a pompous manner and eyeing me insolently from my head to my toes before meeting my stare and grinning again.

My fear and disgust suddenly dissipated into a strange, emotionless sort of fury instead of the usual flare of temper. Cold anger swept through me and I concentrated on it, feeling nothing else. I drew myself to my full height and my mouth twisted into an involuntary sneer.

"Shocked," I started with a mocking bow, "That you had liked me so much from our last encounter that you decided to remember my name with what sad little mental capacity you have."

It wasn't much of an insult, but Oscar's face slowly turned livid anyway. I silently thanked the English teacher at my orphanage for her lessons, which I had always loathed. I watched him carefully, noting how his fists clenched. He wasn't a newsie; I knew he wouldn't have any qualms about the rule concerning girls and fights. Well, fine, I thought defiantly. I don't care, I can still find my way out of this.

"And where's your dear brother? I thought he'd always be-"

Oscar's hand snaked out suddenly. The moment he closed around my arm, I yanked backwards. He had no time to really tighten his hold so he had to let go. I took a step back and clenched my own fists.

"Don't you dare," I said fiercely, narrowing my eyes at him. He glowered and I glared back, knowing he had had enough with talking by now. I moved farther away from Oscar to keep the distance between us, but he moved with me.

Oscar suddenly leaped forward and lunged with sudden speed. I stumbled back in surprise and he managed to grab me again. Instantly, I swung my other arm and struck the side of his face with all the strength I could muster. It wasn't a punch, but it was more of my whole arm whacking him hard. Either way, he grunted and cursed again, but he didn't release me. He drew me closer, his face inches from mine and already starting to turn red from my hit.

"You made us look like a fool yesterday," he growled, "You can join Jack in the refuge after I'm done with you."

I spat in his face and he started. Then his mouth tightened and I braced myself for a blow, but it never came. Instead, he started dragging me back towards the entrance and I dug my heels into the ground, gritting my teeth. I knew he meant to get out of Medda's place and if he did that, I would have no chance at all.

He turned, scowling, and tried to reach for my other arm. I did my wild swing again, this time accompanying it with a sharp kick to his shin. He swung an arm up to block my swing, but his balance off though with the kick I bestowed. Instead of doing me good however, it simply caused his elbow to slam against my jaw hard and it made me bite down on my tongue painfully, causing tears to spring to my eyes.

"You…you…worthless jerk!" I screamed childishly, officially losing my temper at the grin on Oscar's face. I threw myself on him, forgetting everything Spot told me about not giving into impulses and letting opponents make the first move. Barely any of my blows landed and I admit I even resorted to biting when he tried to push me away, but it was enough to see the alarmed, slightly panicked look on Oscar's face. At least he had let go of me in his surprise.

Then one of his flailing hands knocked me down and I landed with an ungraceful _oof_. I quickly picked myself up and he gave me a sneer again, but it was a bit of a guarded one, as if wary of what else I might fly into.

I wasn't quite sure what happened then. He swiped at me again and I tried to block it, but it connected with my forehead and I fell backwards to land heavily on the floor, my breath knocked out of me. He started to reach down for me, but then he stopped, gaping at something I couldn't see from where I was. He suddenly paled before taking a step away and then Spot suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He tackled Oscar to the ground so hard that they both rolled over twice.

I jumped up in surprise and then swayed slightly, wincing at the sudden sharp stab in my head. Oscar's hand had cut open the gash from Fire's stone again and blood was trickling slowly down the side of my face. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.

Spot and Oscar had been struggling to get on top, but Spot won. He hauled Oscar to his feet and then felled him again with an uppercut across his jaw. He gave him a vicious kick, followed by another, and then stepped back.

"Get up, Oscah. _Get up!_" Spot was angry, angrier than I had ever seen him, and even I felt a sudden chill of fear up my spine.

As all bullies are, Oscar was a coward at heart and a wimp as well. He took advantage of the short distance between him and Spot and scrambled up so quickly before he fled, looking bruised and battered. He didn't even glance back as he ran for dear life towards the front entrance. Spot swore and stormed after him, practically flinging aside everyone in his path with black murder on his face.

Without a single glance at me. At all. Not a word to me. Nothing.

I started to frown, but I stopped as pain streaked through my jaw. Ouch. Well, I certainly was grateful Spot came when he did. I was a bit ticked off about him completely ignoring me, but I was sure he didn't really mean to…anyway, I wasn't about to act all high and mighty about it.

I had meant to get out through the backdoor, but as I looked over, the front entrance was not as packed as it had been, because Jack had already been caught. It was still full of newsies trying to get out, but it wasn't too bad.

I managed to push past them and then saw there were only a few guards now. They were obviously only set there to keep 'order', though their presence simply made the fleeing newsies more violent.

I looked around for Spot or any familiar faces, but I saw none. Sighing at the havoc still continuing around me, I slipped past the guards easily. There were a few stragglers on the street, but I knew none of them and they were busy setting out for their respective homes. Which, to me, seemed like a very good idea.

Feeling immensely tired and worn out, I began making my way back to Brooklyn.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if you expected more out of the Oscar/Ace confrontation, but I didn't want it to be that dumb typical plot where guy beats up/harasses girl, boyfriend comes to the rescue thing…so if Oscar seemed a little out of character, I apologize. This was a bit of a depressing ending, but I promise the next chapter won't be as sad. :D Thanks for reading, please review!

Hurray for a new reader, RainySunshine! Thanks for reviewing! And of course, thank yous to all the other great readers who've reviewed!


	12. Spot's Captured? Yeah, right

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**_Author's Note:_** Well, here's the next chapter. It's yet another of those nice in-betweens and hope you'll like it...and that it was worth the wait! (hides in a corner)

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek here.

Onto the chapter!

* * *

The way back to Brooklyn seemed unbearably long. It was dark and was growing darker, not at all helping my glum mood. I was hurrying, not very comfortable about walking at night in New York, but I was so tired I felt as though I was trudging through mud. When I finally reached the Lodging House, I was practically sleep-walking.

I stumbled up the steps towards our room and I was already half-way up when the door below me slammed open with such force that I thought the whole, shaky building would collapse. I turned wearily around to see Pike and Sodapop enter, the former carrying a limp figure in his arms…Milkshake.

I ran back down, my tiredness forgotten the moment I saw the nasty-looking cut running down Milkshake's forehead down to her chin. I swallowed and looked up instead at Pike, whose face looked haggard and pale. Sodapop, on the other hand, was flushed and breathing hard, as if she had been running hard.

"What happened?" I asked first, trying not to stare at Milkshake. Pike tightened his lips and turned away, carrying Milkshake up the stairs.

"Thug. Broken bottle," said Sodapop shortly, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly.

I winced and climbed after Pike, following Sodapop. "Is it pretty bad?"

She shook her head. "Not dat bad, at least, I'm sure it won't scar. But you know Milkshake," Sodapop grinned a little, "After she got dat cut, she went after da guy."

"And?"

"An' he knocked her out."

"Ugh."

"Well, Pike's gotten him good. Y'should have seen him," Sodapop lowered her voice, glancing at Pike, who had carefully laid Milkshake onto her bed and was proceeding to clean the cut silently.

"He just snapped," she whispered, "Da thug didn't have a chance."

I smirked sadistically. "Good," I replied and then fell silent. Her story had reminded me about how Spot had come to my rescue when Oscar was menacing me. I frowned, feeling as though I was on the verge of discovering something I hadn't known before. I shook my head slightly and the feeling went away as quickly as it had come.

I wondered just what he was thinking all the time. He was so annoyingly opaque and had a control over his emotions that I knew I could never hope to have. And as to his thoughts, I thought bitterly, I suppose I could easily guess that.

'Dere goes Ace, da empty-headed dope, haring off and getting into trouble and off I go now, savin' her skin again. When will da girl evah learn?'

Yeah. That was probably it.

Pike insisted on staying near Milkshake so we just went hustled over to our bunks. Though it was somewhat hard to sleep, knowing there was someone still awake in the room, but I thought it was awfully sweet of Pike. Then I found myself wondering whether Spot had caught Oscar or not and fell asleep arguing with myself about what had happened.

(A/N: Hmm…do you think there are way too many incidents where Ace falls asleep :P )

Most of the girls snuck in during the night, most of them looking worse for wear. Each time someone entered, I couldn't help but wake up, so my sleep was intermittent. So when I forced myself out of the bed next morning, I had a splitting headache and my body ached everywhere. My jaw hurt when I touched it and I had a feeling there was a bruise there. I wished Oscar ten more bruises from Spot and felt pretty much satisfied with that.

Pike was gone and Milkshake was lying in her bed, one of the few who were awake. Cat, of course, had already gotten up hours before and I had heard her head out towards the docks as usual. Milkshake was staring at nothing in particular, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Hey," I said, dragging my sleep-deprived self over to her and she glanced at me. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling wryly. "I hurt."

"Well, you did get a pretty deep cut."

She grimaced and then peered at me curiously. "What happened to you?"

I guessed that she meant the bruises and my split lip. "Oh."

"One of dem thugs again?"

"No," I muttered as I always did when uncomfortable. "Just this…stupid…thing."

"What?"

"Oscar," I replied reluctantly.

"Delancey?"

"Yeah." I proceeded to explain. She burst out laughing when I finished.

"Ain't that so like Spot?" was her somewhat vague snicker.

We chatted for a bit, Milkshake elaborating on what had happened about her little adventure ('I was soakin' him good, you know? And den he cheated with dat bottle.'), and I making comments that obviously made her feel better. She fell asleep again so I went down for something to eat.

"Did you hear 'bout Spot?" Jackal practically pounced on me the moment I left the Lodging House, bread in my hand. Pilot was next to him, along with a red-haired boy I recognized as Sparrow standing next to him. Oh. The guy who was supposed to be looking out for me about the Fire thing. Ouch.

I uncomfortably looked away from his green, assessing stare and glanced up at Pilot, who had a worried expression on his face. I didn't know Pilot very well because he usually didn't talk to me. He was friendly though, when he did, but more or less taciturn.

"What?" I asked, chewing furiously on the rock-like piece of bread I had in my mouth. I glanced at Jackal who, unlike Pilot, looked strangely amused.

"Of course she didn't hear," Pilot told Jackal, who was grinning his devilish grin now.

"He came with da news," he said, jerking towards Sparrow and giving a rude snort, "Spot's been arrested!"

I nearly choked on my bread and felt a sudden, sickening feeling in my stomach. "What?" I gasped out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how Pilot looked a little startled at my outburst. I myself was surprised at my reaction and I nervously pulled my cloak closer around me.

"He's been taken to the refuge," Jackal added unnecessarily.

"Spot?"

"Yeah."

"Refuge? Like in policemen, jail, court, trial, arrested refuge?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"Dunno."

I stared at him and gave a helpless sort of, "Oh," before numbly taking a large bite of my bread.

For some reason, Sparrow ducked his head to hide a smile. Jackal snickered and I just stared at them, too confused to figure out what they found so funny. Deciding to ignore them, I turned to Pilot. He wasn't laughing.

"We can get him out, right?" I asked and he paused before answering slowly.

"We can maybe…but then again, he might be able to get himself out…" he stopped again and shook his head. "Nah. He can't.

"Huh?" I asked, fast to catch on as usual.

"Y'see, he's nevah been caught befoah."

"So we're going?"

"Da refuge…it's easy to get in, but hard to get out."

I waited, but he seemed deep in thought and didn't answer. Jackal and Sparrow were just standing there, looking amused again. I shot them a short glare and they grinned all the more.

"What?" I finally asked exasperatedly.

"You're just funny," Jackal replied happily, which normally would have made me laugh and make some smart-aleck answer, but I wasn't really in the laughing mood. Before I could reply angrily, Pilot came to his conclusion and cut me off.

"Yeah, we're going. We'd better go at evening. Sooner the better."

"We'd better tell the others," Sparrow remarked quietly and strode into the Lodging House. Pilot followed him in, deep in thought again. I stayed where I was, not really sure whether I wanted to join them, but Jackal dragged me along in his usual, bouncy way.

I hope it wasn't because he went after Oscar that Spot got caught. I hoped, if I was right, he wasn't feeling a bit…eh…put out. I just hoped it had nothing to do with me.

Ugh. I felt so annoyingly responsible.

The Brooklynites more or less seemed to take the news calmly, as if completely sure in the fact that Spot wouldn't spend more than a day in the refuge. I was a little amazed at first at their tranquil attitude, but I realized this just mean that they were fully trusting in Spot's abilities.

I suppose I wasn't with them enough to have that kind of trust yet. I watched as Pilot quickly explained the situation and I found myself abruptly thrust into some corner at the back of the room as everyone crowded around. Just 'cos I was small and scrawny didn't mean they could push me around. I squeezed myself through so I could at least see Pilot and Sparrow.

"Okay, let's decide who's gonna go and who's gonna stay. Not too many, 'cos of reasons I ain't gonna explain 'cos I'm sure y'all know," Pilot was sitting at a table, obviously at ease now that he had determined the course of action.

"I'm going," declared Pithon, almost vehemently. One look at her face and you could tell that she wasn't about to take no for an answer. Pilot glanced at her and slowly nodded.

"We need someone to be on da watch anyway," he muttered, almost to himself, and Pithon smiled smugly.

Of course, I wanted to go and help. If it really was because of Oscar Spot got arrested, which I was slowly beginning to think it was, I knew I was indirectly responsible. So I was actually supposed to go and help Spot get out of the refuge. Not to mention I wanted to, because it sounded like one wonderfully dangerous job. But I knew that wasn't happening.

In the end, through lots of debate and arguments which I don't really feel inclined to retell again, the only people going were Pilot, Sparrow, Pithon, and Cat, who wasn't there, but was picked anyway.

"Where is she?"

"I think she's still at the docks." I said and was promptly saddled with the job of trotting out to get her. After a bit of groaning and moaning, I pushed myself out again and began making my way quickly towards the docks.

It was a hot day, but there was a bit of a breeze that kept didn't make the heat too unbearable. As usual, the streets were crowded, but I had no trouble avoiding most of the people. Or any grumpy officers, for that matter, I thought with a wry smirk, remembering one certain day when one certain officer had chased me all the way from the park.

And of course, one certain Brooklyn leader had helped me out. Again.

Shifting away from the thread of thought that I knew would simply make me feel all confused and irritated at being confused, I forced myself to just concentrate on getting Cat. And preferably not to think at all.

I was drawing near the docks and easily noticed Cat sitting at the edge of the water, staring out across it. She eerily looked like she was meditating or something, which slightly freaked me out, but you usually close your eyes when you meditate, right? She stood up abruptly when she heard me coming up to her. I cast a quick eye around and noticed that there was no one else at the docks.

When she saw it was me, she sat back down and continued staring across the water. This made me feel agitated and restless and I saw why she was in a sense shunned by the other Brooklynites. Respected, yeah, but avoided.

"Spot's been taken to the refuge," I finally said, just breaking the news without fumbling my way through it. She half-turned her head, but didn't quite look at me.

"I know," was her quiet, matter-of-fact reply.

Somehow this wasn't very surprising. "And they want you to come get him out tonight."

She smoothly got to her feet, nodded her thanks to me seriously, and then went off at a fast walk that didn't seem rushed. I watched her go and looked back down at the water. Quickly grabbing a stone off the floor on an impulse, I flung it to see how many times I could get it to skip. It gave one dismal plop and sank out of sight.

What a lovely day.

Well, there was nothing left to do but to go back. That is, unless I felt like brooding over the whole Spot-in-refuge problem, but I was just too sick of it all. I made my way back, except much more slowly than before, to the Lodging House. I took the back way, which was longer, because it used abandoned alleys that led out to the most unexpected places. No one ever used it, which was part of the reason why I took it. I wasn't feeling very sociable. Well, naturally, since your leader's in jail and probably angry at you.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and took a lot of lefts and rights, quickly passing by some dirty, trashy looking men sitting on the ground, too busy drinking to pay any attention to me. By that time, it was nearly noon, so I changed my mind and took a left that led into a narrow street that would suddenly come out only a few blocks away from Ray's.

As I had expected, most of the newsies were there. It was a lot quieter than usual though and it wouldn't take a genius to guess the reason why. I slid into one of the few empty chairs and quickly ordered a simple lunch.

"You certainly took your time," muttered Artemis and I paused to think before replying, knowing she was in one of her moods and definitely not wanting to try her temper. I ended up not answering at all.

The 'rescue team' was at one table, talking quickly and laying out their plans for breaking into the refuge. The rest of us were just clustered around them, listening and eating. It was all very boring, to say the least, and I found myself fiddling with the remains of my plate long after I had finished.

Finally, everyone started leaving and I went straight to the Lodging House. The rest, on the other hand, went straight to the docks. It was then when a sudden random thought entered my mind, that I hadn't seen Fire at all for the last two days.

I hoped that didn't mean anything bad.

I entered the slightly broken down building quickly and I ran up the creaky stairs, two at a time. Milkshake was sitting up in bed and looked at me with an unhappy expression on her face, complete with begging eyes.

"What?" I asked, striding over to my own bunk and picking up one of Stargazer's many comic books on the way.

"Pike won't let me go to Ray's," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees. "He was watchin' me like a hawk until he left a few minutes ago 'cos I made him. And when I tried to sneak out da back way, he caught me and made me go back."

"Not much happened there anyway," I replied, leaning out so the sunlight from the small window could settle on the book. Despite her words, I could tell she was pleased about Pike's care for her.

"Yeah, I heard about Spot," she said, suddenly changing the subject. I flipped to the next page of my book, wishing she hadn't. She swung her feet over and then stopped, blinking as though she were dizzy. I shot her a look.

"You better stay where you are or I'll sick Pike on you."

"Okay, okay." She returned to her former position. "You're as bad as he is."

I just grinned at that and continued my reading. The hours passed by quickly as I absorbed myself with Stargazer's books and I ended up reading three of them. She wouldn't mind.

Milkshake had fallen asleep after pumping me about the plans made for Spot's 'rescue operation'. Apparently, she wasn't as healthy as she thought she was. By the time I had finished my fourth comic book, I heard the door downstairs open and I glanced out the slightly darkening sky outside the window to realize that it was probably time for the four to go to the refuge.

I quietly left the room and sure enough, Pilot, Sparrow, Pithon, and Cat were downstairs. Everyone except for Cat seemed fidgety.

"Good luck," I said and Pithon grinned.

"Yeah, we'll need it. Spot's probably not someone they're gonna let by easily."

At this, I raised my eyebrows, puzzled. "They know Spot?"

Pilot entered the conversation. "Well, Snyder has heard of Spot and knows what position he stands for da rest of us."

The name sounded strangely familiar and I tried to grasp at the memory, but it slipped away, making me frown. Snyder…I had heard that name somewhere. I know I did.

"Who's Snyder?" I asked and Pithon gave me a strange look.

"He's da warden of da refuge. Piggish kinda guy."

"Betcha he was da one who called in the police at da rally," added Pilot, "Everyone knows he's after Jack."

"Ooooh," I frowned again, trying to remember. I gave it up. "So where's the rest? All of them at the docks?"

"Yep, or at Ray's. Dey won't come back until Spot does."

"Let's get going," cut in Sparrow, his freckles seeming to stand out more than usual. Pithon grinned again, obviously more excited than nervous. I wished I could join them, but again, I knew it was out of the question.

"Well, see ya." With that, I watched them slip out the door and walk off towards Brooklyn Bridge. I turned back around and went up the stairs again. I was about to grab another of Stargazer's cheap novels when I noticed with a start that Milkshake's bunk was empty.

"Pike is going to kill her," I said aloud and then smirked. She had obviously used the back way out and either had gone to Ray's or the docks. Oh well. I guess she can take care of herself.

I picked up the book and began reading, a very graphic short story that caught my attention almost immediately despite my worries. The author described the scenes with chilling vivacity that had me shivering from time to time. I wasn't very fond of the characters though. The good guy's brother didn't have my sympathy when the monsters killed him and I wasn't thrilled when the good guy and the girl were murdered by hypnotized villagers. Still, it was a frightfully creepy story that made me wonder just why Stargazer had it in her small collection.

I tossed the book over to Stargazer's bunk once I finished it and then paced over to the window, trying to see through the darkening streets whether the four were gonna come back with Spot or not. They should be back soon, if they were going with their plan.

What if they all ended up getting caught? What if Spot had been sentenced to something worse than the refuge and Sparrow had been misinformed? And if Spot did come back, what if he was all cold to me for getting him stuck in there in the first place, for I was now sure that was why he was caught. Oscar must have somehow led him straight into the police.

I groaned aloud and went back to pacing. I should have gone off to Ray's or the docks to divert my mind, but I was too tired to go off again, too lazy, and also that book wasn't going to let me walk in the dark for some time.

I was about to rummage for another in Stargazer's cache when I froze, my head cocked. I had heard a slight noise that sounded like the door downstairs was being opened very quietly. Were they back? I peered out the window and then I realized if they were, they would certainly be making a whole lot more noise. Unlike the Manhattan LH, our caretaker always went home after noon. Pilot himself had told me the others weren't gonna come back.

Then who was it?

Crazy, unreasonable thoughts streaked through my currently excited mind, thoughts about murderers, burglars, and escaped convicts entering the room and killing me in tons of torturous, horrible ways and then leaving my dead corpse for the rest of the Brooklynites to find.

Which was all very stupid, I know, but you have to understand that I had just read an unbelievably freaky story and I happen to have a very creative imagination. Not to mention that all my pessimistic thoughts and worries about Spot had made me feel downright miserable.

I sat very still, trying to hear if there were any more noises. I was just starting to relax when I heard a creak on the steps that made me jump up to my feet and edge over to the back way out. Another creak made me practically spring for the hidden latch and I know I must have looked incredibly silly, but at that moment it was pretty scary, dumb as it may sound.

Then I stopped, my curiosity, as it wins over everything, winning over my fear. Who was coming up the stairs so quietly?

I stared at the closed door of the room and then tip-toed over. My first wild fright was gone and I was definitely itching with curiosity now. The person, whoever it was, was probably mostly up the stairs, because there were two creaky boards and they were both right about the latter half.

I waited, my hand resting on the door handle lightly. I was now close enough to hear the person spring over the last few steps and then walk closer towards the door I had my ear pressed against. As his steps didn't slow, I realized he didn't mean to stop and that a few more seconds and he would be already past the door. If I opened the door later, I would only see the back of his head. And I certainly wasn't going to be satisfied with that view. My usual impulse taking over, I swung the door open as hard as I could and its thick, wooden frame solidly thunkedinto the person, knocking him against the shaky rails that kept him from really falling over to the floor downstairs. I heard him curse sharply when his back hit the rails and I sprang out, ready to duck back into the room.

My eyes widened when I saw who it was and I just stared, unable to react. The disheveled, dark-streaked blonde hair, the slightly turned-up nose, the discolored bruise on the side of his face, and the glaring blue-grey eyes…it was _Spot.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know, I know...too easy, right? But to Ace it was a surprise, because, well, you know the story.Sorry again for the long wait. Good news though, this chapter was gonna be really long, so I cut it a bit…so the next chapter should be up much sooner. And THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! 100! And 4:D

_Next chapter:_ A talk between Spot and Ace (don't you love talks?), someone else ends up in the refuge, and also a new character enters the story. But I don't know, I usually start by planning out chapters and they turn out rather different, but oh well, that's the general plan.

Oh, and hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


	13. Cows Are Cute

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**_Author's Note:_** Okay, part of the reason why this chapter came out so late was because fanfiction froze up my account...(mutters angrily). Apparently, my LOTR humor fics was in 'script form', so they deleted them and froze my account as well. So, I couldn't update until today. Another reason was 'cos I was slightly lazy and slightly havinga hard time. :P

Oh yeah, I hope you've forgotten what I told you all what this chappie's going to be like. As I thought, it turned out quite differently fromwhat I expected.For one thing…well, I suppose I'll just let you read on. Geeeeeh…this is one chapter I'm rather nervous about. And for that reason, I'll just let you read on as well...

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek here.

Onto the chapter!

* * *

Spot's glare at being knocked aside lasted for only a second and he looked surprised at my own appearance around the door. I was still gaping, my mind having come to a complete, dead stop. I didn't get it. I didn't get it at all. Why was he here? How _could_ he be here?

"So, how long are ya goin' t'stare at me?" he said after a moment, almost lazily, and I found my tongue. It didn't really help.

"You...but how…I thought you were in…," I stopped when he smiled and I took a deep breath, knowing I wasn't making any sense. He was supposed to be in the refuge, right? Pilot had gone with the others to get him out…so that meant that they were at the refuge with no one to rescue? Too muddled to try to sort it out, I gave Spot a helpless look.

"Glad to know you missed me," he said, putting on his hat that had been in his hand. I exhaled shortly, beginning to relax because he was so calm. It must be alright then.

"You looked horrible," I informed him and his smile turned into a wide grin. Then he looked me over, taking in my split lip, the bruises, and, as I was horribly aware, the dark circles under my eyes. I reddened as I always did when he did that and something flickered in his own circled eyes, but before I could understand it, it disappeared into another easy smile.

"So do you," he returned and I started to smile back, but my jaw ached so I ended up with a weak half-grimace. He smirked and then looked away, glancing into the room.

"No one here?" he said more than asked. I frowned and bit my lip when he winced slightly again, putting a hand to his back.

"Sorry," I blurted and he looked up.

"For what?"

I sighed again, this time impatiently, and waved vaguely with my other hand. "You know. For slamming that door into your…nose."

For a second I was afraid he was going to ask why I had actually done it, but he gave a sudden short laugh; a real laugh, devoid of any sarcasm or irony. I tried not to look surprised again, but I knew I was. Wow. He was _laughing_.

"I've gone through worse," he said, with his usual confident smile. I nodded for no particular reason.

"And thanks for helping me out yesterday," I said, really meaning it for once. He indicated to my gash, which Oscar had managed to re-open with that right hook.

"Y'better fix dat up," he commented, narrowing his eyes at it slightly. I suddenly felt my neck grow hot as again I remembered that yesterday had been around the fifth or sixth time he had had to help me. Then I ignored my embarrassment, forcing myself not to continue thinking or else I'd end up to the usual, perhaps correct conclusion that Spot must think me a fool.

"He had it comin'," Spot added, either ignoring or not noticing the way I had avoided his eyes. He leaned back against the rails, content to just talk to me on the narrow platform. He actually wanted to talk? Well, okay, so far our short conversation had been without my flying at him or him making cold remarks. I told myself to make sure it went on that way.

"Anything else?" he asked and played absentmindedly with the hat hanging from his front pocket.

"How did you get caught?" I hated how I had blurted that out as well. Why do I _always_ have to act like an idiot around Spot? He paused; apparently this wasn't the question he was expecting. Then his face smoothed and he gave a careless smile.

"Da Delancey led me straight outside into a pack of bulls," he answered and his eyes hardened, then he continued calmly, "Dey clubbed me unconscious and den I jus' woke up in da refuge."

So I was right. I felt a pang of guilt and looked up at him, feeling rather sick. If all the stories I had heard about the refuge was true, he must have had a terrible time. The Warden…no, Snyder, I told myself, was known for being cruel and for constantly cutting rations. Most of the street kids and newsies there weren't that bad, but I knew there were a couple of really nasty kids.

Saving a girl for the thousandth time, getting led into a trap, knocked out, and then finding himself in the refuge. Huh. And I thought _my_ life was bad.

"An'," he cut me off in a cold voice when I tried to speak, "If you start blamin' everythin' on yoahself like you always do, I'll give you anuddah push at da docks again."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't reply. I swallowed uncomfortably, somewhat unnerved at the truth of his words. Spot being so perceptive can sometimes be plain scary. He smirked again, the coldness gone.

"Besides, I always wanted to soak Oscah."

I giggled then, feeling slightly relieved at his words. "Thanks…and that was low," I added, only half joking, "Making me remember that wonderful day again. Just low."

He gave another short, sudden laugh, and he looked like he was about to say something, then seemed to change his mind. I decided that he should do that more. Laugh, that is. He had one of those great laughs that really made his eyes light up and crinkle. It made him seem more…human. It also made him seem more like the age we shared.

He then started for the guys' room and I stayed where I was for a moment, wondering if the conversation was over, but I followed him anyway, sensing it wasn't.

It wasn't.

"So," he strode into the room and went straight towards the sink to splash water over his face. I waited at the door…no way was I going in. The room was in a worse state than the girls' and I could see Spot just fine from here. He was still talking, his voice slightly muffled as he wiped it on a dirty rag he picked up from beside the sink. "Who organized my rescue party?"

I didn't even bother wondering how he knew about it. He was like that. I frowned, tugging my hat further down over my head and slipping my hands into my pockets.

"They went off about an hour ago to get you…oh." Oh no. My words trailed off in the middle of the sentence, unfinished.

"What?"

"Oh, no…you aren't…you're here and…_oh_," I paled, stunned. He tossed the rag away and cocked his head at me. If he had done that cocking-head thing at any other time, I would have secretly thought it was one very cute gesture, but I barely noticed.

"What?" he asked again, taking off his hat and brushing it off. Small puffs of dust rose, but I didn't pay any attention. I was too horrified and too angry at myself. How could I have forgotten all about them?

"You're not in the refuge," I gasped out. He started towards me and stopped, crossing his arms.

"Really?" he asked innocently and I shook my head, ignoring the sarcasm. Didn't he understand?

"They're gonna get caught!" I was desperate for him to get it. "Without you there, and...they're just gonna walk in...and-," I stopped short when he raised a hand. He was looking down at me (for, in case you don't know, he was a full head taller than me) and was grinning again.

"I met dem on da way, Ace."

"Huh?"

"Dey went to da docks and Ray's to tell da others," he explained patiently, "I only jus' asked you who organized da rescue."

I blinked up at him and he gave a little smirk. "You look like a cow," was his kind words.

"Cows are cute," I said, automatically, my mouth working faster than my mind. Then I groaned. I was going to give up trying to figure him out. All it did was embarrass me. He met them on the way? He certainly thought of everything…

When I got enough courage to look at Spot again, he had an incredulous look on his face. Well, he didn't have to look so surprised, I thought bitterly. He _knew _I was always like this. Why pretend?

"I know, okay?" I sighed, giving him a short glare. "I was an idiot and I jumped to conclusions."

"Cows?"

I was so surprised and taken aback that all I could say was, "Huh?" Yes, my usual response to confusing remarks. He did that cocking-head thing again.

"Cows…are _cute_?"

We stared at each other and after a silent pause, we burst out laughing. Okay, maybe Spot was merely chuckling, but I certainly was laughing my head off. Spot, arrogant boy he might be, could be unintentionally incredibly funny at times, though he was probably laughing at _me_. But when he looked so adorably incredulous and when he's talking about…cows…

I tried to say "Yes, they are!" in a righteous tone, but it turned out into an undignified loud snort. He really laughed then at that and, disbelieve it if you will, Spot's laughs are infectious. Probably because he had such nice ones. I collapsed on the floor, laughing like a hysterical teenager, which I probably was. Spot stayed on his feet, of course, but he was still laughing hard.

Pretty soon though, he got himself under control and I managed to shut up.

"Well, it's your fault," I told him, still snickering on the floor. He grinned down at me, so genuinely that I actually felt at ease around him. That is, I wasn't bracing myself for him to say something scathing.

"Mine?"

"Yeah, you called me a cow," I sniffed, inwardly marveling at how he was acting like a normal guy, "You, young man, have insulted me."

He helped me up to my feet, smirking and shaking his head. "Yoah unstable. Mentally unstable."

"Look who's talking," I muttered, still smiling as I straightened my clothes.

I waited for a witty answer, but he was silent. I lifted my head to peek at him. He was still standing there, but his wide grin had turned into a flickering smile that started dwindling away. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he met my eyes and the words choked and died in my mouth. There was a strange, intense emotion in them that made me suddenly uncomfortable.

"What?" I finally managed to say, looking curiously at him.

His eyes traveled down to my mouth slowly and I blinked, caught off guard. Surely he wasn't thinking…_surely _not. He looked back up into my eyes intensely again. He moved closer, slowly, and I hastily stepped back, licking my lips nervously. My back pressed against the door frame and my throat clogged up.

_What's wrong with me? What's he doing?_

"You," he murmured slowly, stepping even more closely until we were barely inches apart. He gently took me by the shoulders and I unconsciously tensed, alarmed, but unable to move. His voice dipped into a lower, huskier tone, "are da most…_intriguing_ goil I 'ave evah met."

I wanted to move away, but I was already backed up. Curiously frightened at his tone, I pressed even more back against the door. No, I wasn't frightened of him, but I was unnerved by the position I was in. I stared up at him, feeling drowned and small in that blue-grey gaze. There was an undercurrent of something other than what he said, some deeper meaning in his voice that I didn't understand.

I was suddenly very aware of how close his face was, of the way he was looking at me with that queer emotion in his eyes, of his slight smile, and of his hands resting on my shoulders. His gaze fixed on my lips again and again, for one terrifying moment, the wild thought that he was actually going to kiss me right then and there streaked through my head.

I felt that odd, drowning sensation again, my breath catching in my throat. His left hand on my shoulder slid up to the side of my neck and he brushed my hair back from my face. _Move!_ I shouted at myself, but I couldn't. _He can't be doing that to you! Shove him away! _I shivered at his cold touch, inwardly trying to figure out how I got myself into such a situation.

His calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle as they traced just below my mouth, up my jaw, behind my ear, and under my hair to the back of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as my skin was left burning even if his fingers were icy. I could feel him leaning in; close enough for me to feel his warm breath on my face. I forced my eyes open and found myself lost in pools of granite steel and streaks of soft blue.He drew inexorably closer…closer…

"Spot…" I managed to gasp out, my voice a squeak to my ears as I tried to raise a hand to push him away, but there was no room even for that. But there was no need for it either as his eyes instantly cleared.

He whipped his own hand down from me in a horribly violent gesture that snapped me out of my own numbed state. We stared at each other, both of us not daring to speak. Then the spell broke.

He stepped back. I started breathing. He waited for me to say something, but I couldn't think. My mouth, usually so ready with an answer or a comment, just didn't seem to work. I thought I saw his mouth tighten with irritation. Irritation at me? Or…at himself? I looked down and away, my thoughts in a jumble.

I knew my face was scarlet by now. I raised a nervous hand to quickly tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, struggling to regain my composure. Too much was happening, too fast for me to handle.

He smiled finally, one of his slow smiles that usually made girls all crazy over, but it looked forced and I simply felt lost. He tipped his hat-probably an unconscious gesture, I thought absentmindedly-and his face smoothed into an unreadable mask. I swallowed and wrapped my arms around myself protectively.

"Well," he said detachedly, "see ya 'round, Ace."

I nodded, trying to smile back, but failing miserably. Then he stepped out of the door and I heard his light steps go down the creaky stairs. It was only when he went the door when I nearly collapsed for the second time that day, but for very different reasons.

I stayed where I was, staring at the space in front of me in a kind of dazed shock. My gash was starting to throb again, but it might as well have been nonexistent.

He had been about to kiss me._Spot_had been about tokiss me. And I knew it wasn't just a fancy. That look in his eyes made me almost completely sure. As inexperienced as I was about romance, I wasn't completely blind.IfI hadn't spoken,onesecond longer and he probably would have kissed me right then and there.

Then why didn't he?

I was so rattled at that thought that I physically jerked away from the door frame and walked back to the girls' room and to my bunk. The image that came up in my mind made me flop over backwards on my bunk and stare sightlessly up at Artemis'.

Spot and me? We were as different as…as…I couldn't come up with a comparison, but we were _different_.

But opposites attract, a tiny voice snipped and I nearly slapped myself. Oh great, I thought sarcastically. I wasn't succeeding in convincing myself at all.

I knew I no longer felt any resentment towards him. That had just been the cause of…well, pride and I knew it was mostly all of my own pride. That was not a comforting thought. Just now, he had been utterly nice and acted like a friend. In fact, he had been _very_ nice…

But he just didn't seem like…but his look…

What did he mean when he had said made that remark? Had it been just a random comment or, if I was to follow his tone, did he mean something else completely? I knew he was good at being subtle and giving subtle hints. I suppose he expected me to figure it out. Meh.

Screw it all.

I closed my eyes. Maybe I was thinking too hard. Maybe I was thinking too much on it. Spot was attractive and it was a fact. He was also a womanizer, _that_ I knew. He attracted girls as easily as I attracted trouble. He probably was used to being admired, used to charming girls, and very used to causing the reaction I had just felt.

The moment I thought that, I sat up abruptly (not too abruptly or I would have hit that stupid bunk above me), my face burning as realization hit me, hard and cold in the stomach. Shame and anger made me clench my fists and swear under my breath.

Did he think I was just another one of his stupid conquests? Another easy win? Another addition to his…list?

Was that why he went out his way playing hero and saving me, 'his damsel in distress'?

And since I obviously didn't respond to his heroic actions, did he just try to take it a step further? Did he honestly think I would just go off and fall in love with him, just 'cos he pretended to nearly kiss me?

Well, I thought grimly, he could try.

I was furious. I was furious at myself, actually. I had made a fool out of myself again. Now that I think back, I had also bitterly disappointed, though I would never have admitted it.

I was restless and irritable by the time I had come to that conclusion. The room seemed small, the air stifling and hot. I glanced outside to see that it was growing to be evening, but it was still pretty light. I decided to go out for a walk. Spot and everyone was sure to either come back or stay at Ray's to get a drink or something. I stood up and walked out impatiently, slamming the door hard behind me.

The streets were bright enough for most of the people to still be out. The lamps were not lit yet. The temperature had dropped considerably, but it was still slightly warm, although sudden breezes had some people hanging on to their hats and other articles of clothing.

I let my feet wander because I had no real destination planned. My anger and indignation slowly cooled off, although I wanted to stay angry. It was always like that. I could never stay furious for too long. By the time I had reached the park, I had gone through another of my mood swings and was feeling fairly calm.

I had to think clearly. I could be wrong. I might have just jumped to conclusions (again) and I knew how many times that had given me some pretty unpleasant results. I really did not know Spot very well. Maybe he really did have a special interest in me and it was not all an act.

Sure.

It was so impossible. The other answer, the one that had gotten me so roused up, was more believable, more probable. It was also much less complicated. I gritted my teeth, hating the fact that I was unable to make up my mind. Both did not seem very easy. I didn't know what to think.

And of myself?

I rubbed my neck, sighing and trying to think. It was a full minute later, a minute I spent arguing silently, when I finally came to the oh-so-helpful conclusion that I wasn't sure about that either. Spot was ridiculously good-looking and was probably every girl's dream boyfriend, but he didn't seem like a long-term kind of guy. But then again…who knows? The only thing I was really understood was that I _didn't_ understand. How hopeless.

I decided then that the best course of action to take was to simply pretend that nothing had happened. If it had meant anything at all, it was up to him to make the next move again. If it hadn't meant anything and he did nothing at all…well, I suppose I had better forget all about it. If I could.

I looked around, as in really see and take in my surroundings. It was then when I finally realized that my feet had taken me near the seedier areas of Brooklyn. I hastily took a right, using the back streets for the second time that day. I had enough of trouble and I certainly wasn't going to get myself into another fix.

Jamming my hands into my pockets again, I tried to dwell on some other thoughts. I realized that I had not found out from Spot how he had managed to escape the refuge. Did he sneak out? But that was nearly an impossible task. Did he get help from the outside? Surely he wasn't the only one caught from yesterday. The other Manhattaners maybe the rest of their boys out and took Spot along?

Suddenly, I stopped short, my skin prickling as an almost familiar feeling that someone was watching me crept over me. At that same moment, a strong, quick gust of wind blew my way and my hat went flying off my head. Gasping slightly, I whirled around and froze as I saw my hat tumble down the narrow, dirty alley to stop at the feet of a guy I had never seen before.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, I was pretty unsure about this chapter…I've never really written romance before, so just to warn you, if future chapters turn out corny like this one, bear with me. :D I'll probably re-write them later on or something.

120 reviews! Wow! Thank you all for reviewing…ugh, I hate saying that because it sounds to impersonal, but I really am grateful to each one of you! And lots of new readers as well! (cheers)

Oh yeah…(tries to look stern) and the people who are just reading and not reviewing…please drop a note!


	14. Drinking's Stupid

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Not that long time from updating, right? Right:D Anyway, as you can see, I deleted that Philip Danford part from the last chapter and stuck it in here. Go ahead and skip it, nothing too different anyhow. There are a good seven pages or so of new stuff, so yeah, I did not cheat to make it longer:D Also a bit unsure about this chapter, because Spot gets a long bit.

Oh yeah, sorry if you start seeing lots of changes in this story in the summaries, chapter titles, and the chapters themselves. I'm kinda trying to fix things up right now. Spot's POV in Chapter 8 is changed to third person form (is that what you call it?) and has a bit more. That's probably the main thing changed so far…Spot POVs are gonna be in 'third person' form like that from now.

Okay, that's all of my rambling.

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

He was leaning sideways against the wall of a broken-down building, his arms folded across his chest. He reached down and picked up my hat slowly, a small, polite smile on his face. There was nothing threatening about his manner, so I wasn't scared, though I was slightly suspicious and wasn't feeling very friendly. How long had he been watching me wandering around? He walked towards me and in those few moments, I quickly looked him over with a critical eye.

'Wow' was the first word that came to mind. All thoughts and worries about Spot were wiped away. So much for being critical.

But…w_ow_. He was immaculate, unbelievably immaculate, that he seemed almost one of the richer, well-off people if it wasn't for his clothes. Even with that slightly dirty black shirt and pants, he just seemed perfectly clothed. But it wasn't his being so clean that made me gawk.

He was tall, perhaps just a little taller than Jackal, and that's pretty tall. He was well-built and, from the way he carried himself, I knew that despite his gentlemanly appearance, he probably was one slick fighter. With thick ebony hair swept back from his forehead and combed to perfection, and coal-colored eyes, he looked almost like some dark prince right out of the storybooks. As for his age, he looked a few years older than me, around nineteen or twenty perhaps, but I couldn't be sure.

He stopped only a few paces before me and then handed the hat over, his eyebrows slightly raised. Oh. Yeah, the hat. I knew I was staring and that I had been caught at it, so I took it, blushing furiously.

"Thanks," I mumbled, wrenching my gaze away and telling myself not to goggle again. I considered myself to be someone who didn't 'drool' over guys, but I knew that was exactly what I was doing now. A few seconds and I already couldn't take my eyes off him.

"Your welcome," he replied in a cultured, educated tone, which, to my relief, was not affected. He bowed his head slightly and I found myself reminded of Spot's bows, except this guy wasn't teasing or mocking me. It matched him perfectly, as though it was something he really did everyday, as a matter-of-course.

I settled the hat over my head and looked up at him, no longer feeling star-struck. It was as though hearing him talk like a normal guy had gotten me right back to earth.

"You shouldn't be walking around these parts," he told me, but I sensed that he was actually asking me why I was. I shrugged as casually as I could, returning the smile.

"I needed a walk," I answered honestly and decidedly liking the way a few strands of his hair fell over his eyes.

"Rather dangerous here," he said and then he smiled widely, "What's your name?"

"Ace," I replied. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you a newsie?"

"Yeah."

"Brooklynite, I suppose?"

There was something in his voice that made me stop for a second and peer at him closely. All I could see was that same interest so I answered an affirmative again. He looked surprised then and I heard him mutter something under his breath. Then he met my eyes and nodded his head.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance."

I gaped at him. Woah. He was unreal. If he wasn't so unbelievably handsome and if his politeness didn't seem so natural, I would have instantly been nasty and definitely would have labeled him as being an uptight, stuck-up flunky.

"You have been around here long?"

I regained my senses and then narrowed my eyes at him. His question was a normal one, but something felt out of place. I didn't know what, but there was something wrong. Why would a guy appear out of nowhere and take a sudden interest in me after learning I was a Brooklynite?

"How long were you watching me?" I asked instead, trying to ignore how good-looking he was, but admiring him at the same time. Get a grip, I told myself. There's something wrong with this whole situation and you know it.

He laughed (_wow…_), his dark eyes very much amused at my suspicious question.

"Well, I noticed some of the thieves of the slums were eyeing you back there and I decided to follow along just in case."

"Thieves?"

"Yes." The look on his face was distasteful. "They are not very friendly."

"How did you know they were thieves?" I prodded.

He laughed again and he seemed to loosen up a bit, "You _are_ suspicious, aren't you? I've been living in the slums for some time. I know who are honestly poor and those who aren't."

That surprised me. This guy, whoever he was, and the word 'slums' just did not go together. How on earth could he stay so clean?

I felt myself relax as well and gave him a sideways look, saying slyly, "So which one are you?"

He smiled mysteriously and replied, "I prefer to believe I'm neither one of them."

I tugged down my hat and grinned up at him, "I told you my name, so what's yours?"

"Philip Danford," he answered and gave me a little head-bow again.

_Philip Danford?_ Heh. The IVth, I suppose.

Still, despite my sarcastic thoughts, I knew I liked him. Yeah, I know, he was a stranger and he might as well be some murderer, but he was charming, polite, and witty. Who wouldn't like him? He might not be very easy to understand, but he was easy to talk to.

Unlike certain people.

I winced inwardly. I had just about enough of Spot today. He puzzled me too much.

I glanced up and noticed that it was growing dark. Philip was still standing there, perfect and at ease. I did a double take. I saw a thin, barely visible scar over his left eyebrow, as though someone had slashed at his face with a knife or something equally sharp. I quickly looked away before he caught me staring again.

"Well," I said shortly (and firmly, I hoped), "I'd better be getting back."

I stuck out my hand and he took it. I gave him a handshake and was about to pull away, but instead he lifted my hand up to his lips and kissed it briefly before letting go. My stomach gave a jolt. Yes. He was unreal. And he was blatantly flirting.

"Ah, well," my voice was annoyingly shaky so I cleared my throat, "I guess I'll see you around."

As I turned quickly and started walking away, I heard him say softly, "You can be sure of that."

I glanced over my shoulder and he was still watching me with a smile on his face. I couldn't bear the thought of him doing that the whole time, so I forced a grin, waved cheerfully, and ducked into another alleyway.

Now that was a very interesting meeting…and I had a feeling that I _was_ going to see more of this Philip Danford very soon. For some strange reason, although I did like him, a part of me wasn't looking forward to it. Maybe it was instinct.

* * *

**(to Spot)**

Around the same time Ace was leaving the Lodging House, Spot was heading for Ray's with such a dark expression on his face that the people on the streets, even the adults, took one look and shifted out of his way. He didn't notice, because he was furious.

He admitted that he had made a mistake. He knew when he was wrong and this was one of those times. One of those _few_ times.

She hated him.

"_Well…let me tell ya dis. I bet if y'take it easy…take it slow…and she just might respond. " _

That was what Pike had told him.

He had done nothing of the sort. He had gone off and nearly kissed her without any warning whatsoever. It was only the aghast expression on Ace's face that made him realized what he was doing and manage to stop himself. Ace could never hide her emotions. She had looked shocked, and that meant she felt shocked. Now, Spot thought bitterly, she was probably going to avoid him at all costs.

And he hated it.

But, he thought as he walked, maybe there still was a chance. Shocked as she had looked, she had not moved away. Ace didn't strike him as the kind of girl who'd freeze up that long. Surely she had to feel something if she didn't push him away even though she seemed dislike him so much?

Now that was what Pike would call 'wishful thinkin'. Spot was disgruntled.

Pike was too observant, Spot decided with slight annoyance. All the other newsies had all dismissed Ace as just another one of Spot's girls when he had tended to her wound. (With what they called unusual sentimentality, he thought, somewhat miffed) But Pike had seen right through Spot's jokes and had immediately talked to him once they were alone. Yes…Pike was too observant sometimes.

He was one of the few Brooklynites who Spot really considered as a good and close friend. They had been together from when Spot had become leader of Brooklyn, though it was always clear which one always won arguments. Spot was the leader and Pike was second-in-command. They were both satisfied with the situation. Pike didn't want to be King of Brooklyn. Either way, Spot was _born_ to lead.

_**(Flashback)** _

"Are ya serious?" Pike asked incredulously, real surprise written across his face. "She..._you_?"

The two of them were on the way back to Brooklyn after the rescue at Manhattan's distribution center. They were now on Brooklyn Bridge, but the both of them weren't quite appreciating the spectacular view.

Spot gave him an amused glare (not many could pull that off as well as Spot could), "What about me?"

"Why Ace?" Pike persisted in that same incredible tone.

Why Ace? Even he didn't really know. She wasn't all that pretty; in fact she was rather on the plain side. She didn't have some unusual characteristic that set her apart from other girls. She couldn't even fight, though, Spot admitted, she certainly could take care of herself. She was more of a Manhattaner type. Here you needed fists. There you needed wits. He knew that, but there was no way he could tell Ace. She go to Manhattan? He scoffed. It wasn't going to happen.

"Well," Pike started as Spot didn't reply, "Yoah tastes are changin'." Then he grinned, seeing the annoyance on Spot's face. If they were in public, Spot would have thoroughly soaked him, but since the two of them were alone, Spot let it pass. Pike was the only one, perhaps, who got away with teasing Spot in his face.

"Look who's talkin'," Spot replied, "You're always for dem simperin' ones. Well," he paused and then grinned mischievously at Pike's scowling face, "Milkshake ain't dat bad, perhaps."

"I resent dat," declared Pike, his mouth twitching despite himself at the thought of Milkshake. Then he frowned. "Ace, well, she's…interestin'. Cute, smart, honest…nice girl." He paused and grinned, as if in sudden decision, "I like her. Y'know she's da one dat told me to talk to Milkshake?"

"Yeah," Spot replied shortly, struck and not at all amused at the irony. Ace had played matchmaker and she was completely unaware of him. He sighed audibly, taking off his hat and running an irritated hand through his hair at his own helplessness.

"Y'know she's a bit touchy to you."

"Jus' a little," Spot replied dryly, feeling an urge to draw his cane out and club Pike for being such an insensible idiot. That tiny little problem was what kept him away from Ace . Of course he knew!

"Why, I wondah," Pike remarked thoughtfully, glancing at Spot.

"Dat's what I don't undahstand," Spot muttered.

"Turn on da famous Conlon charm," Pike suggested jokingly, grinning again. Spot rolled his eyes, though he returned the grin smugly.

"Ace's not normal; she's immune to it."

"Aww…dat's tough," Pike finished unhelpfully with a shrug. He was immensely amused. His leader and best friend was helpless. For once, _Spot_ was the one at loss. Pike was thoroughly enjoying it all. It was priceless.

_**(End Flashback)**_

Spot prided himself on being heartless. It was what gave him his feared reputation. It was what kept the Brooklynites in line. It was also part of the reason he gained respect, for being sentimental never helped in a life of a newsie. He always did what was _needed_, even if it sometimes went against what he wanted. He never allowed his or others' feelings get in the way…so far.

A girl falling in love with him was not surprising. It was, to him, one of those things that happen. He enjoyed it, yes, who wouldn't? It usually didn't go deep anyhow. They were never serious about it and he never was either. They always went off in the end with some other guy. The 'walking mouth', spineless, nice kind of guy. He didn't care really. He rarely did. But he definitely cared about Ace.

She had _something_, Spot decided with the same amusement and admiration he felt whenever he thought about her. She just picked herself up after a hit and then went straight after the problem. It was that dogged determination that first attracted him to her and it was the same characteristic that was repelling him away. It was as though she was adamant about turning everything he did into something against her…

He swore softly under his breath, frustrated at himself, frustrated at her. All he wanted was to just take her in her arms and kiss her senseless…if she'd ever allow him to.

Spot shook his head, wishing he could forget about the whole situation for at least now. It wouldn't do arriving at Ray's in a bad temper.

He shouldered past a man who apparently wasn't having the greatest of days either. The man glared, but Spot merely gave him a narrowed stare before striding on contemptuously. He wasn't in the mood to bother with adults. What good were they for anyhow? They always talked about doing things for your benefit, but it usually turned out the better for them. Take the refuge for example, or, in Ace's case, orphanages.

Perfect. Just when he was starting to muse over the problem of adults, his thoughts managed to somehow wind their way back to Ace.

_Man, I need a drink.

* * *

_

**(to Ace)**

I set off to the Brooklyn LH, much more composed than I was when I left. By that time, it was around seven and my stomach was growling for something to eat. I hastily picked up a bit of food from a cheap vendor. Thankfully, the old man there thought that the pitifully hungry girl with the innocent smile was cute enough to delay the closing of the vendor. He even lowered the price for me, seeing my poor, wide-eyed, shivering self. Oh, I am so good.

I returned to the LH, still munching on my second loaf of bread for the day and feeling proud of myself. As I expected, everyone had come back from Ray's.There was a rough, friendly kind of atmosphere that had me feel instantly at home, odd as that may sound. I slipped in and smelled beer and smoke, grimacing. I glanced up and saw that the way upstairs was clear.All I wanted to do now was to somehow manage to get back to the girls' room without anyone stopping me.

Anyone: especially Spot.

Go ahead. Call me a coward. I know, I'm simply supposed to pretend like nothing happened this afternoon. As in laugh and congratulate Spot in his escape and stuff. Sure. I just couldn't see how I could see Spot without blushing, stammering, and basically making a fool out of myself again. The memory was too recent and still fresh in my mind. I'll admit that it had jolted me too much for me to face him right now.

And, of course, when did anything I plan to do go the way I want it to? The moment I stepped into the room, Sodapop spotted me. She came over and I inwardly felt like turning right around and leaving. Of course, I stayed where I was and tried to look friendly.

"Ace, where've ya been?" Without waiting for an answer, she bounded on, "You'll nevah guess! Come on!" she said, a wide grin on her face. I opened my mouth to tell her I knew, but she took my arm and dragged me through the crowded room so quickly that I couldn't pull myself away.

"Sodapop, I don't want-," I tried to say, but then I was brought right up to the desk of the LH caretaker. Of course, that was where the center of all the attention was sitting casually atop of, talking easily with Pike and Pilot. All three of them each held a bottle of beer. I stopped short and my bubbly friend finally released me, her happy grin never fading from her face.

Spot's conversation with the two other newsies stopped abruptly when he saw me, the crooked smile on his face disappearing almost instantly. Which surprised me, because I expected him to give a cocky smirk or something as smug. When his eyes met mine, I sucked in a quick breath as my mind re-played over and over what had nearly happened the last time he stared at me like that.

"He came back jus' dis-," Sodapop said, but Spot cut her off.

"Yeah, we met," he said quietly and Pike turned away as though hiding a snort of laughter. Why? Did he know?

Spot slipped off the desk's edge and came towards me, looking queerly different without the confident look on his face. His slow gait made me bristle; it was almost as though he was expecting me to…what did he expect me to do? Collapse and weep hysterically in his arms? Tell him that I suddenly had a change of heart and that I was madly in love with him?

Well. He truly liked me? It was up to him to prove it. If not…I set my jaw, stood my ground, and stared back,letting him know that I wasn't about to act like one of _his_ girls. He finally smirked and took his hat off in a sweeping bow. Geh, how many times have I been given bows today? New way of charming girls? Well, it wasn't working.

"Welcome back, doll," he said and I frowned. His words weren't slurred, but he was obviously intoxicated. He hadn't called me names like that since the day we went to save the Manhattanners from that ambush.

"You're _drunk_," I muttered bluntly, allowing disgust to creep into my tone. Sodapop blinked at my sudden harshness while Spot simply grinned.

"Yeah," he admitted freely, so freely that it even wasn't admitting. "Jus' a little."

His careless attitude suddenly irritated me. He was so sure of himself, while the whole time I had been feeling all nervous about that near kiss. I felt a desire to accuse, to make Spot realize he wasn't all that perfect, and for him to know that the world didn't revolve around him. _You promised to be nicer_, a little voice nagged, but I ignored it. I was sick of being confused and fidgety around Spot all the time.

"Drinking's stupid," I told him with the same frankness that had gotten me into so much trouble back at the orphanage…orphanages. Spot, to my satisfaction, looked taken aback, as though it was the last thing he thought I would say.

Pike and Pilot nudged each other and snickered. I shot them a dirty look. To my surprise, they quieted and then settled back with the same kind of anticipation one would while watching a play. Somehow it disturbed me.

Spot's surprise smoothed over and leaned back against the desk. At least he was still sober enough to more or less have control over his actions, if not his words. I nodded, giving _him _a smirk for once. Let's see him work his way out of that.

"Ya really think so?" he said with mild interest. Apparently, he'd never been told that by anyone.

"Yeah, I rather do," I replied sarcastically. Inward laughter made his blue-grey eyes twinkle mischievously at me. He was enjoying himself, I realized, feeling disappointed. He was supposed to be at loss.

"Why?" he asked, before raising the beer towards me in a half-salute and taking a swig of it. Just to infuriate me, I thought, so I refrained from glaring.

"First off, it makes you act like an idiot," I looked pointedly at him and then continued counting off the reasons off my fingers. "Second, you just get sick and it stunts your growth."

He smirked in my face at that. This time I couldn't keep from glowering at him and I knew that my mouth was probably sticking out in a ferocious pout. He said mock-seriously, "I'll take yoah word for it."

"For your information, I don't drink," I lied through my teeth, lifting my chin. He gasped loudly in 'shock' and Pike and Pilot snickered again. Sodapop had disappeared off somewhere, probably out to find some other entertainment than watching and listening to me and Spot argue over the matter of drinking.

"Nevah? Darlin', you're missin' out a lot in life," Spot was saying andI scowled at him."We've gotta fix dat…," he added with a crafty look.

"Oh, shut up," I shot back irritably. Spot laughed and then nodded. "Pray, continue, deah lady."

"I will," I said fiercely, determined not to let him get the better of me. I raised my hand again. "Three, your life span gets shortened."

"Oh da horror."

"And four…"

"Yeah?" he asked when I trailed off. I had very tactfully run out of reasons in my eagerness to prove him wrong. Wonderful.

"Four…you get addicted," I finished triumphantly. A carefree smile played around his lips and he finished what was left of his beer in one long draught. Pike pounded him in his back proudly and I crossed my arms as Spot raised his eyebrows at me smugly.

"Spot ain't a weaklin', Ace," Pilot declared, winking at me.

I knew I looked disgusted, because I was. "You honestly think it proves your strength?"

"I appreciate yoah concern," Spot said calmly, apparently the alcohol having no effect on him at all. "But I can handle myself."

I tensed at the slight emphasis on the 'I'. I suppose he meant that_ I_ couldn't take care of myself? In matters that have nothing to do with the subject of drinking?

"So can I," I returned hotly, thoroughly angered this time and falling unknowingly into his verbal trap.

A half-empty bottle appeared in his hands. "But I thought you said y'never touched alcohol?" he asked innocently, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Oh joy.

I gritted my teeth, realizing there was no other way out. If I said I didn't mean that, then he'd ask what I did mean and then I'd have to explain…that was not happening.

I glared. I hated this nasty side of Spot, the one that always took advantage of everyone else for his own amusement. I missed the fun, friendly Spot of this morning. I gave myself a mental slap. Stop dramatizing. He didn't have sides or double personalities. He was just a…well-rounded person. Anyhow, he was drunk, I told myself. If he wasn't, he wouldn't act like such a jerk. Right?

He was still holding the bottle teasingly so I snatched it out of his hands roughly. He looked suddenly surprised. So he had not expected me to actually accept his 'dare'? Without a moment of hesitation, I tipped my head backwards and drank it all. The stuff burned its way down my throat and had me gasping for air when I was done, but I _did_ havebeer before so I didn't keel over or anything like that.

Spot was grinning from ear to ear, along with the other two. I swallowed, grimacing at the taste. I shook my head at him, my head already starting to pound.

"Like I said. Drinking's stupid."

With that last remark, I shoved the bottle back at him hastily and fled upstairs. I headed for my bunk and sat down firmly, feeling dizzy and downright horrible.

I was gonna sleep early. I was gonna sleep so _he_ wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing me drunker than a…well, seeing me drunk. My thoughts were already fogging up. I squeezed my eyes shut. Ugh. I never could stomach beer or anything with alcohol in it. I shouldn't have taken Spot's hinted 'dare.'

_No, really?_ I thought sarcastically. Thank goodness that bottle had only been half-empty…half-full…oh great. I couldn't even think straight. I lay back and nausea made me groan aloud.

"Hey Ace?" It was Spot, calling and coming up the stairs in a slow, careful tread.

I was very soon going to be sick all over my pillow. Really sick. I leapt my feet and ran for the washroom.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Lol, poor Ace. Poor, _stupid _Ace. Hehe. Yeah,I used a "Finding Nemo" quote, the half-empty/half-full bit. :P I love that movie…okay, back to A/N. I didn't even mean to add that whole 'drink' conversation, but it just ended up that way. Hope you enjoyed the little look into Spot's thoughts; it's slightly an answer to a request from one reviewer (I better not mention her name or else fanfiction dudes might think it's a 'reply'...) who said she wanted more of Spot POVs.

Oh yeah, just in case you're wondering, Philip Danford isn't going to turn out like…Ace's brother (who died, by the way, in a street fight when he was fourteen and Ace was nine). He also isn't some evil guy from Ace's family. Nothing to do with her family! Okay? Yeah, just wanted to make that clear, 'cos I'm not too fond of stuff like…well, girl's father comes out to wreak havoc in her life, boyfriend saves her…yadda yadda. Sorry if any of your stories are like, I'm not criticizing you, but it's gets a bit tiring after a while.

Change of subject, but check up my homepage in my profile if you want to read more on Ace's history. It's updated…it might sound way too Mary Sue-ish, but couldn't be helped.

More info on Philp Danford in the next chapter which, by the way, will include the Brooklynites going to Manhattan and seeing Jack. I'm _pretty _sure it's going to turn out like that. :P

So many new reviewers! I really really appreciating it all, every single one of them gives me the URGE to write…thank you so much. :)


	15. Manhattan Again

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Here ya go, a new chapter! Pretty long, but hopefully isn't tedious or anything like that. Snitch, Dutchy, and Boots come out just a bit. Thank you for all the reviews! I've replied to a lot of them with that new reply thingy fanfiction has, but I don't really like using it for some reason. Guess I'm just used to writing them out as part of the chapter.

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

"Ace?" Spot was asking again. I staggered out of the washroom to see him poke his head into the room, looking for me. He only had time to blink before I quickly slammed the door in his face. I turned around and watched the room spin before my eyes with a sick kind of fascination. Yep. Drinking was stupid. _I _was stupid.

"Ah…you okay?" came Spot's voice through the door and I leaned against it just in case. I was notgoing to let him come in, see me, and laugh. That was not going to happen.

"No!" I shouted, my voice cracking when another wave of nausea hit me. Ugggh. I immediately decided that Spot and the door were not important. I went to my bunk and sulked.

He snorted, loud enough that I could hear him clearly from where I lay on the bunk, blinking away the spots in my vision. "C'mon Ace…it was only half a beer!"

"What do you want," I groaned and buried my face into my hard pillow in an effort to stop the spinning. That was going to be the last time I was ever going to take a dare. It was also going to be the last time I ever touch beer or anything of the sort.

It really was my fault. I had started that lame argument in a fit of anger because…well, I guess I wanted what happened this afternoon to actually mean something. And finding him just drinking away and poking fun at me hadn't been what I had expected.

I heard the door creak open and I looked up to see him standing there, looking at me with thinly concealed amusement. I threw my hat at him bad-temperedly, "Go away!"

He ducked and came up grinning. "You _are_ sick."

My poor head. "What do you want," I muttered again, burrowing under my blanket.

I heard him chuckle, but he replied, "Goin' to Manhattan tomorrow. Seems dey aren't doing well with Jackie-boy in da refuge."

My mind registered the fact and questions immediately came back. Manhattan? Jack in the refuge? Oh, whatever. Not today.

There was a long pause and I realized Spot was waiting for an answer. Well, he was picky about those kinds of things. Something to do with authority and respect and whatnot.

"Okay."

Another chuckle. "Hope you sleep well."

I waited until he was gone and nastily muttered, "Go walk into a wall."

Whatever happened today was obviously nothing of importance to him. Once again, I felt a faint disappointment, one I did not want to dwell on. Well, fine. It wasn't going to be anything of importance to me either. Right? Right. With that last rather bitter thought, I drifted off to sleep. Actually, no. It was more like _dropped _into sleep. Dropped like a stone.

* * *

After a muddy night full of seriously disturbing dreams, I woke up with a…yep, you guessed it. A splendidly splitting headache. And not only that, but a strong sense of having done something idiotic and of being horribly embarrassed over it. I curled up and wished I was miles, miles away. Away, that is, so I wouldn't see a guy who had succeeded, in a matter of a few weeks, in making me feel gloriously angry, deeply ashamed, strangely happy, grudgingly grateful, and, most of all, plain confused.

I was definitely mixed up.

Now, thinking about these kinds of things the moment you wake up is not the best way to start the day. It makes you feel depressed and feeling depressed does nothing to help an alcohol-induced headache. Best remedy? Take your mind off it.

I got up slowly (so my head wouldn't explode…in a figurative sense, duh) and shuffled my way over to the washroom, more or less ignoring the slightly jeering comments from the others. Yeah, they aren't very nice sometimes, but hey, it's Brooklyn. I never said everyone here are always friendly.

I plugged the sink, filled it with cold water, and ducked my head inside. I came up spluttering and my re-scabbing gash smarting, but I felt more awake and I was definitely thinking clearer. I blinked at myself in the mirror and poked at my scab. As long as I didn't get into any more fights, hopefully it'll go away without leaving any scars or anything of the sort.

Sodapop appeared behind me and peered at me. "You bettah keep dat clean."

"Yeah." I looked at her through the mirror. "I was an idiot, wasn't I?"

"Last night?" She smiled wryly. "Sure you were."

"Hey you two," Artemis passed by, nodding to me, "We're leaving _now_."

Oh yeah. Manhattan.

Sodapop quickly followed Artemis out. I gave one last prod (yes, I don't like scabs), pulled a face at myself in disgust, and returned to my bunk. I searched for my hat, couldn't find it, sighed, grabbed up my cloak, and headed down the stairs and out the building.

Since our LH was among the busy area of Brooklyn, the streets were, as usual, filled with the usual morning rush. I could see the rest of the Brooklynites grouped up in twos or threes, or, like in Cat's case, walking alone. Sodapop had gone ahead to walk with Artemis, but I found Pithon just about to start off. I caught up with her with a greeting, which she returned pleasantly.

"So, what's going on?" I asked, running a hand through my hair, "About today, I mean?"

"Jack's in the refuge." There was a tinge of disgust in her voice and I felt rather startled.

"Yeah. So I heard."

"He's a stuck-up dingleberry."

"…a what?"

"Jack," Pithon repeated with sudden vehemence, "is a stuck-up dingleberry."

"Oh. Okay."

I wasn't even going to ask what 'dingleberry' meant. It was just one of her 'Pithon' things.

"Race and da rest ain't dat bad," she continued, viciously un-doing her long blonde hair and then putting it back into a bun again. Obviously, she wasn't at all fond of Jack. "Can't stay in line without Jack. Got no discipline. And all dat's 'cos of Jack. He ain't a good leadah. But dey ain't bad."

"I like him," I declared, feeling defensive. He had been friendly in the few times I had talked to him. He had been nice as well, along with funny, loyal, and quite charming. I couldn't say that for all the newsies I've met.

"Well, yeah," Pithon replied with a shrug. "Spot likes him, I guess."

That's supposed to end the argument? If Spot approves, then hurray, all's well? That had to be one of the most narrow-minded ways of thinking I've ever come across. But of course, I wasn't about to say that. I'd be given the evil eye if I said anything against Spot. Pithon was one of the slightly-rebellious Brooklynites, kinda like Jackal, but she was still loyal beyond belief.

"So that's why we're going," I changed the topic subtly, referring to her comments on the rest of the Manhattaners and what their state was now. "To make sure the strike keeps on?"

"Yep. Seems fights startin' up. Spot comin' would shapen dem up," she finished with a short proud sort of laugh.

I didn't share her amusement, but I did smile as my imagination conjured up a dramatic scene: Spot…coming in…us backed behind him…fights suddenly ceasing…awed looks…that was what would happen in plays or books, but that would be so entertaining.

Well, at least I was going to be able to see Racetrack and Kid Blink again. They were pretty cool guys.

We were walking in comfortable silence for a few minutes when I remembered something. I glanced at Pithon, who was strolling along with a casual spring to her steps. I spoke then, striving for a careless tone.

"Hey, you've been here for some time, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

I paused and then said carefully, "Do you know a guy named Philip Danford?"

She frowned. "No."

"Did he ever join Brooklyn? Stuff like that?"

"Philip Danford?" she grimaced. "What a name. Nope, nevah heard of him. Why?"

"He's just a guy I met up with yesterday."

"Ooh." She looked sidelong at me and then away. I ignored her.

So she didn't know who he was. Then I suppose that interest he had when learning I was a Brooklynite was simply just that, interest. I shrugged and the subject fell away as Pithon began talking about the past newsies who had come and gone.

We crossed Brooklyn Bridge and entered Manhattan about twenty minutes later. As before, strange as it is, I felt the difference. Brooklyn's rough edge was gone. That whole 'someone might stab you in the back' feel. Which really was possible, you know. But not in Manhattan. Money, in a way, was the real danger here. Business, you know?

Pithon also quieted. It was partly because, once again, we were being stared disapprovingly at by people. People who considered themselves respectable citizens. People who disliked these rowdy kids of the streets who were causing so much trouble now in a strike. Heh.

I smiled at one well-dressed lady who was eyeing me frostily, as though wondering to herself I had ever had a bath in my entire life. She looked so appalled at my smile I thought she was going to keel over in dead faint.

Sorry. Moving on.

The two of us parted outside Manhattan LH. Pithon knew Artemis and Sodapop were inside and I decided to go to Tibby's because I wanted to get something to eat, since it was nearing lunch and I hadn't had anything since last night.

"You know how to get dere?"

"I think so. See ya," I said and she nodded before disappearing inside.

I walked slowly, just in case I missed a turn to the left or to the right. I'm not good with places, but I pretty much remembered where Tibby's was. It was a good place, rather like Ray's, but much better kept. Now, to find it…getting lost was not an option.

A few minutes later, I came across it. I smiled with relief at the small café. I was getting hungry and it was hot without my hat. I looked through the window and saw that it was not that full, just a couple of newsies eating late lunches like I was planning on doing.

I entered quickly and there was a sudden silence as the conversation that had been going on came to a stop. I stopped short in surprise as I saw the unfriendly, unfamiliar faces of the newsies. Manhattaners, I suppose. I flushed under their gaze and I fought back the instinctive urge to run back out the door. These are fellow newsies, I told myself. They aren't going to attack you.

Where was Race? Or Kid Blink? Or Skittery or Mush or Snipeshooter or Bumlets? Those were the names, names I could remember, of the Manhattaners I knew. One of them had to be here.

"Who're you?"

There was definite animosity in the voice. I looked at the boy who spoke: Younger than me, maybe around 15, medium-height, dark hair, hat worn backwards, puppy-dog eyes, front teeth sticking out just enough to add to that whole pity-me look. But those puppy-dog eyes were cold and I felt slightly chilled. Wow. And I thought Brooklynites were suspicious. Was it because Jack was in the refuge?

I was about to answer when a little, dark-skinned boy of around twelve spoke up.

"I know you! You're…you're dat goil who was sleepin' in our Lodgin' House dat day!"

"Oooh, yeah, I remembah. Ace, right?" the boy who spoke first grinned. "Spot's chick."

I was so stunned I couldn't reply. _What_ did he just call me?

"So, how's it goin'? With you two, I mean?" He asked, not at all in a mean way, but just teasingly.

"_Excuse me?_"

This boy was dead. He was so dead.

I stared at him with intense dislike. Who does he think he is, making stupid assumptions like that? He and his stuck out teeth. I glanced at the other Manhattaners, who were now resuming their conversation. At least they were no longer looking at me as though I was Joe Pulitzer's daughter or something. I turned back to the boy, who was grinning at my reaction.

"Word gets 'round," he said, obviously misunderstanding me. He turned to whisper something to a blonde-haired boy wearing glasses. The two of them laughed and then returned to their food. I clenched my fists.

Oh no, you don't, I thought grimly. I'm not finished with you yet.

I stormed up to his table and he looked up in surprise, drawing back a little when I leaned in, giving him my nastiest glare. I fancied the room falling quiet again, but I didn't care. I needed to make my point.

"It's not true," I gritted fiercely. "I don't know where you, you little bunny kid, heard such _rot_, but it's not true."

Silence.

"What's not true?"

I whirled with a sharp intake of breath, already knowing who had spoken. Of all the people to come in, I thought. Spot stood in front of the door, his eyebrows raised. I realized then that _he _had been the reason why everyone had fallen silent again. I had been so indignant I didn't hear him come in.

Behind Spot stood Racetrack, who was smiling at me with a cigar in his mouth. "Heya."

I nodded, feeling myself relax. Race would make any girl feel at ease. I glowered at the boy behind me and then headed for an empty table to order food. Not much to my surprise, Spot and Race followed me. I watched them pick a seat and then called for a waiter.

"What was dat all 'bout? With Snitch?" Race asked, his brown eyes looking keenly at me.

"Snitch?"

"The 'bunny kid'. Oh, dat was a good one. Da guys aren't gonna let him forget it," Race chuckled and I reddened, not because of Race, but because I was aware of Spot smirking.

"Nothing happened. Just a little bit of a…disagreement," I finished awkwardly, feeling my cheeks burn because that 'disagreement' was sitting right in front of me.

I stole a look at Spot, who was now looking at Snitch. The other boy shifted in his chair and Spot continued watching him for a moment longer before turning back to me. I looked away to Race, knowing that Spot had just figured it out.

Of course he would figure it out. Of course he would be the one to figure it out. And of course, he would come in at just the right moment. I inwardly sighed. Amazing really, the timing he had.

Thankfully the waiter came over before I had to answer. I quickly ordered a cheap lunch and studiously avoided Spot's eyes. Unfortunately, that soon became impossible when a hat sudden appeared in his hands and was placed it in front of me.

"Heah," he said and I stared at my hat and then up at him.

"Where did you find it?" I asked, a bit suspiciously.

He grinned. "Well, I remember seein' it comin' straight for my head last night."

"Oh." I blushed again and played with it. "Er…yeah. Sorry. I was an idiot yesterday."

Spot's ice blue eyes were unexpectedly warm. "Yeah. Guess drinkin' just isn't yoah thing," he said lightly. "Shoulda known it."

I blinked in surprise. That was the closest I had ever heard Spot to an apology…I was definitely amazed. Race was staring at Spot and then to me, frank curiosity written across his face.

"Don't leave me outta dis," He said finally, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth. "What happened?"

Spot gave him another one of his Looks. "None of yoah business, ya dirty-minded bum."

Race made as to complain, but Spot cut him off by adding, "So jus' shut up."

"Oh fine," the Italian newsie muttered and I smirked as Spot gave me a wink. Not bad, I told myself. At least things were getting fairly back to normal with Spot and me. If, that is, you call our thin relationship as 'normal'.

"What are you planning on doing today?" I asked then, putting my hat on and leaning back in my chair as the waiter came with the food.

"Afternoon papers gonna be sellin' soon," Race said and gave a sly sort of smile, "Davey don't really want us to do dis, but we'se gonna be at da distribution centah."

Spot laughed humorlessly, "Da walkin' mouth? Who does he think he is, da new sub-leadah?"

He definitely did not like David.

Race's smile became somewhat apologetic now. "Well, he's smart. You might say he _is _da new sub-leadah. With Jack in da refuge, you know? Just for da time bein'."

"What 'bout you? Or Kid?" Spot asked and Race shook his head, looking almost horrified at the thought.

"Kid, I don't know, but I ain't da leadah type."

"So, any news about Jack?" I spoke up, gulping down my water.

"We tried to break him out yesterday. Pulitzer had him brought over to his joint and den Davey got him free." Race stopped.

"An'? " Spot prodded. Race shook his head.

"From what Davey says, he thinks Pulitzer's threatened Jack with somethin', 'cos Jack refused to come with him. Don't know why," His face brightened quickly. "But he'll get out. Jack ain't dumb."

Spot nodded slowly. "Dat he ain't," he said thoughtfully. He then smirked. "Wonder how he plans on gettin' out. I'll admit dis: Da strike needs him right now. Pretty much sure he's got somethin' up his sleeve."

"Hey, you comin' or what, Race?" The speaker was the tall, blonde-haired boy with the glasses, the one the boy with the teeth had whispered to. I glanced behind him to see the Manhattaners who was here filing out the door.

I quickly finished what was left of my food and grinned at the two boys sitting in front of me. "Yep. I'm done. Let's get going."

I said nothing to the boy with the teeth on my way out, but I did shoot him one last glare. He didn't notice though, because he was shooting nervous glances at Spot's back. I smirked to myself when I thought of the way the Brooklyn leader had been staring at him. I'd be rather put out too. Well, it served him right.

We left Tibby's, the three of us together, and headed straight for the distribution center. Race's easy flow of words never stopped, which was a relief, because _my _flow of words never came with Spot next to me. Quite soon, though, we heard a whole lot of fervent shouting coming from up ahead and the conversation trickled down to a stop.

Spot smirked. "Sounds to me like you Manhattaners ain't doin' too well."

Sure enough, as we drew near, I saw that the shouting wasn't because of any scabs. Newsies were milling there, among which I saw Kid Blink and Skittery. I also caught sight of the rest of the Brooklynites. A curly-haired boy, who I recognized as David, was furiously trying to keep them in line, but obviously no one was listening to him. Race swore under his breath and ran quickly over. Spot and I caught up.

Things quickly got under control, so fast that it was almost funny. The presence and orders of Spot soon had everyone piling into one organized crowd in front of the gates. I was standing around the back with Artemis and Jackal. I absentmindedly listened to them argue, though their voices were quiet because of Spot.

The 'scabs' came mere minutes later. Dares, catcalls, and insults were thrown out to them, some of which even I were slightly taken aback at. It went on for some time and just when some of the hot-tempered scabs charged at us, officers and guards came running in to the scene.

"Ol' Weasel called 'em in, I bet," I heard a voice mutter darkly from behind and I turned around to see Skittery and Kid Blink together.

"Weasel?" I asked, curiosity unable to keep me quiet. Skittery looked down at me. His hazel eyes widened with surprise.

"Hey, it's you again." He returned to his serious, somewhat glum expression and said, bending a little so I could hear, "He's da guy who sells us da papes."

"A stupid loser," elaborated Sundance.

That was the last thing I heard about Weasel because the police forced us apart. What could we do? We scattered and broke apart. Quickly, Spot, Race, and, yeah, David (though Spot gave him a slow Look), made sure we reformed again.

"Stop the World!" David shouted, a little desperately, trying to get us unified.

"No more papes!" A voice rang back in clear reply, sounding somewhat like Race's.

Everyone took up the cry. The police made a barricade so that over-enthusiastic newsies wouldn't take it into their minds to storm the World building, but their faces were strained. Obviously, they were having a hard time keeping check of their own emotions.

Then…confusion. Just confusion. Fights broke out; some with the scabs, some with our own members, and some with the police. I had to continuously jump back to avoid a stray fist or a stray kick. Not that it helped, because I stumbled against more newsies, who irritably pushed me back to where I was.

I found myself jammed in between Skittery and Sundance this time. I peered over at Spot, Race, and some other Manhattaners I knew, standing a few feet away. Spot broke up a fight and soon a fair amount of order was restored.

"Well," I said and Skittery glanced down again, his look bemused.

"Rough, ain't it?"

"Just a little," I replied, slightly out of breath. "Good thing Spot's here or this would have been an utter disaster."

Skittery opened his mouth to reply, when a strange expression flashed across his face. Utter confusion stamped across his perplexed features, he seemed to completely forget me and fixed his narrowed eyes on something past my shoulder. I turned my head to follow Skittery's line of sight and instantly caught sight of what had startled him. A strange, horrible stillness fell over everyone and I stared, open-mouthed.

Jack stood in front of us all. He was barely recognizable, dressed in nice, clean clothes with a stack of newspapers in his arm. If we saw him in different circumstances, I would have thought him very handsome, but right now, I was too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with the whole situation.

Because something was telling me that this did not make sense.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Now what can Jack be doing out of the refuge? Well, dun dun dun. :P lol, well, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Oh, a little notice, but I'm currently redoing my homepage right now, so my 'Ace of Hearts' page is down. Sorry. It should be up soon.

Thank you as always for the reviews…they _really_ help me out. :)


	16. Betrayals and Brawls

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Woot, a new chapter. Long again…tell me what you think!

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

"Jack? What's he doin'?" I heard Skittery say doubtfully, his voice adding to the confused murmurs that rippled through the Manhattaners. The Brooklynites were dead silent, just quietly observant and watching. I frowned and moved forwards to get a better look. Jack shifted slightly and my eyes traveled away from his face to stare at the stack of newspapers under his right arm, at his clothes, and then back up to his face.

"He's dressed like a scabbah!"

Spot's incredulous voice was full of disbelief. My throat tightened and I felt Skittery put a hand on my shoulder. I thought for one surprised second that he was actually comforting me, but I realized he was using me to prop himself up to peer around the people in front of me. I felt a weak flash of humor at my own thoughts, but I wasn't smiling.

"Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself." The words came from a stout man standing next to Jack, a nasty smile on his face as he continued with false pleasantness, "A special gift to a special new employee."

Pulitzer. But worse: Employee.

All eyes turned to Jack, this time with unbelieving anger. Skittery's grip on my shoulder tightened painfully, but I ignored it. I was too busy noticing how the color was slowly draining from Spot's face. I uncomfortably looked away to Jack, who was shifting again.

_Why?_ Jack had been the one who started the strike. Everyone had backed him up. It didn't seem like him to accept mere money and leave us, who were probably his only friends and practically family. Jack wasn't like that. He wouldn't just go off and leave us to take care of the problems caused by something he started. Even though I knew him a lot less than everyone else, he didn't seem to be to be that kind of person. It didn't make any sense.

The others didn't seem to care about reason, especially Spot. He was livid, furious, and it was obvious that Jack's betrayal had hit him hard. For the first time, I unexpectedly felt a stab of pity. Yeah, I know. Me, feeling sorry for Spot! But it was true. After all, I had known Jack for only a few weeks. It was only a shock to me. Spot knew him for _years_. I could only imagine how he was feeling right now. 'Pretty nasty' would be an understatement.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I hated this. Hate, hate, hated this. It was just so…_cruel_.

The yelling grew louder, but Jack simply stood there, taking it in. I flinched as Spot lunged forwards, evidently trying to rip the taller Manhattan leader into bits. He probably would have succeeded if it wasn't for Racetrack and some others who desperately held him back. Skittery's hand tightened even more as he started shouting at Jack. Spot's "I'll murder ya!" rang in my ears and I swallowed hard. I willed it all to somehow go away and that I'd wake up from what was a bad, bad dream. I willed Jack to speak up and say that the stout man was lying or that this was all some kind of sick joke.

But it didn't. I didn't. And he didn't.

I turned abruptly around, shrugging off Skittery's hand on my shoulder, and shoved past the newsies. Some of them swore at me and irritably shoved me back, but I wasn't in the mood to be pushed around. I went on, feeling slightly desperate to get away.

I broke through and took a shaky breath to settle my nerves. I wasn't claustrophobic or anything like that, but being in a crowd, facing a guy you once trusted, liked, and admired, and listening to everyone grate away at him was plain unbearable.

I leaned back against a store's outer wall, watching the newsies from where I stood. They were fairly quiet now and I stayed where I was, waiting. Soon enough, Jack was led through, still guarded by those blank-faced police. A few newsies charged after him, but those guards kept them back.

I watched him go, feeling numb all over. The strike was never going to pull through now. It was hopeless. It was worse than hopeless. It was humiliating. After all that trouble, we had to disgracefully slink away and cope with whatever Pulitzer was going to do to us. I groaned inwardly. The price…I was practically broke. Things were going to get tough.

The crowd started to break up. The Brooklynites were still muttering amongst themselves, but the Manhattaners were in a kind of stunned silence. Their previous outbursts of anger had faded away. I could tell they were finally realizing just what had happened. I saw Pithon slip past, glaring after Jack. She then caught sight of me and came over.

"Just wait 'till I get my hands on him," She stood in front of me, still staring at Jack's retreating form. Her face was flushed and her eyes were blazing. "Da traitor. Da low dirty traitor."

I frowned slightly. Enough with the Jack-bashing. He was a traitor, sure, but it's not like repeatedly saying what everyone else already said was going to make anyone feel better. He deserved it, yeah, but what's the use?

"Of all da cowardly things to do," she continued, clenching her fists. "Da rotten scabbah."

I finally said, "Calling him names isn't going to help things at all."

She shot me a disbelieving look. "You _defendin' _him?"

"Why would I be defending him? Of course I'm not," I replied curtly. She gave me a close look. Well, I wasn't happy with the situation either. She might as well just leave me alone.

"Well," she said huffily, "I knew that he was a no-good fink. I always knew it. I _always _knew it!"

I snapped irritably, "A stuck-up dingleberry, right?" I was aware I was being unreasonably argumentative, but I didn't care. _Why_ did Jack have to do this? There was no reason at all! Other than money, yeah, but would he really be that shallow?

She whirled on me, just as bad-tempered as I was right now, and retorted, "What's eatin' you?"

"Nothin'."

"You sweet on him?"

I was horrified. "No."

"You sweet on a _scab_?"

"I never said that!"

She poked me in the chest. "You know, he deserves everythin' he gets. Stop stickin' up for him."

"I'm not sticking up for him. He is a jerk for doing this to us."

"Then why you defendin' him?"

"I just…"

"What?"

"I just can't believe he'd do this."

"Huh, you and everyone else."

I shook my head, my frown deepening. "Listen, I'm a pretty good judge when it comes to people, okay? And Jack seemed to me to be a loyal guy."

"Really?" Pithon sneered, "Hard to see now, ain't it?"

"What I think is," I continued, throwing common sense aside andcontinuing defiantly,"is that there might be some other…side to this."

She stared at me in mixture of horror and astonishment. "You honestly believe dat."

I shrugged, "Well, I-"

"C'mon Ace! You saw him back dere!"

"Yeah."

She stared at me again and then laughed sarcastically. "I don't believe dis. After what he did an' you still think da best of him. I'd think you'd know bettah, even if he supposedly ain't a 'close friend.'" She raised her eyebrows suggestively at those last words. My irritation notched up a level. Geh, she was being persistent.

"Maybe my not knowin' him is helpin' me see things more calmly than you guys, huh?"

"You haven't been with us long enough, Ace," her voice had a scornful, dismissive edge now. "You don't know what greed does t'people."

I narrowed my eyes. "I know enough, Pithon. I may be inexperienced, but I _have_ lived on the streets before. I know enough."

"An' you still think Jack has some crazy reason for turning scab?"

"Like I said, I'm tryin' to-"

"He sold us out! For dough!"

"Okay, fine," I said, my frustration growing. "He's a dithering idiot, craven cur, two-faced sell-out, and he can walk off a cliff for all I care. Happy now?"

"Hey, I'm not da one with da problem. He led us all down and _you're _not carin'!"

"I do care!"

"Den why are you feelin' sorry for Jack?"

"…Just leave me alone, okay?"

"I always said he was good fer nothin'."

"I don't give a _rip _about what you said."

"Why don't you jus'-"

I don't know why I did it. I should have known that we were both being unreasonable and that this argument was just because we were irritated. But something just _snapped_ inside me and before I knew it, my hand swung up and punched her solidly in the chin. I moved so my back wasn't against the wall while she staggered back with a sharp cry. Then she stared at me, wide-eyed with pained surprise. I glowered at her, painfully aware of the throb growing in my knuckles.

Without a word, she tackled me. We went at it, rolling in the street and kicking, punching, biting, and tearing at each other like a pair of wildcats. It wasn't even streetfighting. Just an all-out, brutal, reckless catfight. She was taller, heavier, and more experienced, and she very well might have been holding back, but I doubted it. I, on the other hand, stubbornly kept going, taking it all out on her for all I was worth.

"Hey! What's goin' on?"

"Two of yoah goils, Spot!"

I split open Pithon's cheek with a right hook, which she returned with one of her lefts. Pain streaked across my face, but I ignored it. She grabbed my wrist and twisted. I grabbed her hair and pulled. She bit down on my shoulder. I slammed a knee into her stomach, distantly marveling at the fact that I wasn't laid out cold on the street by now.

Then a well-muscled arm encircled my waist and jerked me off Pithon so hard my breath left me for a second. I saw Pilot grab Pithon as well and she screamed at him to let her go. I blindly struck out, struggling as hard as I could as the arm tightened around me. I was promptly hauled clear off the ground, which really didn't do anything but make me angrier. I twisted and squirmed, but whoever it was had too strong a grip.

"Stop it, Ace," Spot's voice came right suddenly, right next to my ear, laced with steel. I felt his warm breath against my neck and goosebumps rose on my arms. "Don't make it any harder dan it already is."

_That _stopped me. His grip loosened and then moved to securely hold my upper arm. Breathing hard, I felt a wet stickiness on the side of my face and used my free hand to gingerly trace blood along a long scratch. At least it didn't seem to be deep. But it hurt.

"What was dat for, huh, Ace? What was dat for?" Pithon yelled, sporting a split lip, a deep cut on her cheek, and a black eye. I was pretty sure I looked even worse. Then I noticed everyone curiously moving towards us. Spot rested a hand on his cane and gave them a frosty look that stopped them.

"Dis ain't none of your business," he said to the Manhattaners and then gave a curt nod to the rest. "Brooklyn, wese goin' back. Now."

A young boy looked from Spot to me and then back to Spot. "But what about Cowboy? Jack-"

"Les," Race said warningly, cutting the boy off. He shook his head slightly and gave Spot a wry, rather lifeless smile. "Thanks Spot. Maybe y'can come back when things…you know."

"Maybe," Spot said, not returning the smile. I could tell that he wasn't planning on returning to Manhattan for some time. At all, even. He glanced over at the now-quiet-but-still-fuming Pithon and then down at me. "Let's get dis settled in Brooklyn."

Without another look at the watching Manhattaners, he strode down the street with me in tow. He was so tense that I didn't even want to start a conversation. I didn't blame him, of course. The thing was, he _could _let my arm go. He had a grip like an iron vice. I tried pulling away, but he yanked me back again. I hesitated before asking, not wanting to somehow cause his obviously strained temper to explode. Maybe I was just a _tiny _bit scared of him at the moment.

"No," was his short reply, but he seemed to relax slightly. Slightly.

"I'm not gonna go anywhere, you know," I said, stumbling for the thousandth time trying to keep up with his steps. He slowed down and spoke without looking at me.

"It's not you. Pithon looks like she wants to tear you apart with her bare hands."

I turned my head slightly. Pithon met my eyes and scowled at me. Pilot was walking next to her, carefully watching her just in case she rouse up again. I sighed and used my free arm to wipe blood off my face. He slid his hand down to hold under my elbow, which, I figured, was better than nothing.

"Spot," I started and he stiffened, as though sensing what I was going to say. I faltered and then stuttered, "I'm real sorry about…about…you know, back there, Jack-"

"Why?" he didn't exactly snap, but it was close. I didn't reply because I really didn't know the answer to that either. I couldn't very well tell him that I felt sorry for him, could I?

"But yeah," he said unexpectedly after a while. "Gotta admit, I didn't expect it to happen."

I glanced up at him. His mouth was pressed into a thin line and his eyes were stony. I knew he was angry at Jack. He was also probably feeling horrible. I wanted to say something, something casually comforting, but the words didn't come. It's one thing to feel sorry for him. It's another to actually comfort him. I sighed again and looked away. What an utterly _awful_ turn of events.

"Well," he added, calmly enough, "Da strike's ovah. Dat's for sure."

"Yeah," I replied carefully.

Once we reached Brooklyn LH, everyone separated to their own ways. I expected Spot to give Pithon and me a long, scathing talk for our trouble, but he didn't. Well, not really.

"Deal with it now," he said darkly and held up a hand as Pithon tried to speak. "Jus' deal with it now and I'm tellin' you both, one moah fight and you'll both be in deep…trouble."

Pithon defended herself instantly, waving her hands wildly and pointing at me. "She slugged me without warnin'! Swear to God, Spot I didn't do anythin'!"

Spot looked at me and I shrugged, knowing that her words were right to a certain extent. "Yeah. I just…lost it."

There was silence and I felt my neck grow hot under that direct, steady gaze. He stared hard at me, his expression unreadable. Then he raised an eyebrow and smirked; his good humor was returning. That is, if you could call that good humor.

"'Lost it' is right," he exhaled sharply. "But you had to lose it at da worst time. In front of dem Manhattaners. After dat…Jack," he spat out the name like a curse.

"Sorry," I said hastily.

He nodded slowly and then said, "You better wash up. You too," he said to Pithon. With that, he strode down the street quickly. Pithon's face mirrored my surprise and immense relief. I watched him go and an image sprung up in my mind: Spot going to a solitary place where he could be alone and then releasing all his pent-up anger on some unfortunate, inanimate object. Huh. Me and my imagination.

Cat suddenly barged out of the LH, nearly knocking into me and Pithon. She caught herself just in time, glanced at the two of us, and then looked around. She caught sight of Spot's vanishing form and sprinted after him quickly. We both stared at her and then at each other. Pithon quickly looked away and when she turned to me again, her mutual surprise was gone and she looked determined to be disagreeable.

"Okay, I think I deserve an apology, y'know?"

I rubbed the side of my face again, feeling gritty and dirty all over. "You do," I agreed, genuinely sorry. "I shouldn't have hit you."

Her face confused at my ready answer, she checked whatever she was about to say. "Yeah," she said instead angrily and rather lamely. She seemed to wait for a retort. When it didn't come, she added accusingly, "I thought you couldn't fight?"

"I can't. It was a sheer burst of crazy energy," I blinked and grimaced, "That didn't make sense, did it."

A smile tugged at her lips, but she forced it into a dark glare. "No."

"Anyway," I pointed out, changing the subject, "I kinda deserve an apology too."

"What!"

I didn't answer (I was starting to learn keeping quiet was a pretty good thing to do sometimes) She then seemed to be doing a fast and speedy mental recap, because her face grew thoughtful. Her glare softened and she then carefully gave me a sheepish smile, as though she had remembered all the words she had spouted. "I guess I was _sorta_ relentless."

I smirked, "Sorta. But it's okay. We were both off it."

"Off it?" She returned the smirk, although hers probably looked less painful than mine. "Your vocabulary ain't workin' too good now."

"So, are we back to normal? That is, if normal is what we can call whatever it was we were before?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Well, that was good. I wouldn't want Pithon as an enemy.

"Now," I said resignedly, "I am going up to see what you did to me."

She grinned widely and then winced, rubbing her jaw. "Well, I think I'd bettah go along."

We were greeted with derisive hoots as we walked into our room. Pithon merely grinned while I reddened with embarrassment. The girls were laughing so hard, which was a bit unexpected. I had expected them all to be brooding and breathing fire. I ducked just in time to avoid a pillow. Pithon grabbed it from the floor and threw it back at Milkshake, who merely grinned crookedly. Her own wound looked horrible, but she seemed to be perfectly fine now.

"Ain't you two a sight!"

"Was jus' da entertainment we needed after Jack!"

"Nice shinah, Pithon! An' _you_ said she 'couldn't handle Brooklyn!'"

I shot her a dirty look and she 'hehe-ed' apologetically. "And what do you think now?" I demanded. It was her turn to give me a nasty look.

"You can't punch properly. You got no style," then she reluctantly admitted, "Alrigh', you weren't dat bad."

I grinned, feeling foolishly pleased, and headed to the washroom, still grinning. I was aware of one thing: That fight had helped me out. I could tell the girls were now really and truly accepting me. Maybe that guy who had once said all that nonsense about how out of every bad thing something good would come out had actually been telling the truth.

Shaking away my thoughts, I observed myself critically. I wasn't as mutilated as I thought and felt. I had a long, raking scratch along one side of my face, but as I thought, it was shallow and easily dealt with. I had a humongous bruise on my cheek, but that was about all. Not too bad for my first, all-out fight.

The girls were still teasing and egging a now-annoyed-and-embarrassed Pithon on about the fight. Then Artemis took pity and dropped a few skillful comments that eased the subject away. Away, that is, to the inevitable Jack problem.

"Pithon says you think he has some motive for it…you don't really think dat, do ya?" Milkshake asked hesitantly to me, as if she was dreading the answer. I sighed and lowered the rag with which I was cleaning the scratch. I looked at her through the mirror and grinned ruefully.

"No," I admitted, "Not really. I was just being...disagreeable."

"Thought so," Pithon said triumphantly and returned to the conversation. "Spot sure took it hard, didn't he?"

I glanced back at the dirty mirror while they talked. My eyes were, as usual, drawn to the ugly half-healing gash on my forehead. I scowled and turned away. A thousand plagues and curses and other whatnot on Fire for being a grudge-bearing moron and shooting that wretched stone.

Speaking of Fire…

Where was he anyway? I had not seen him at the rally, I had not seen him in Brooklyn afterwards, and I had not seen him today. In fact, I hadn't seen him since the time he confronted me in the streets at Manhattan. My brow furrowed slightly. This unusual absence of his sneering self was rather disturbing.

"Oh yeah…," Artemis started, changing the subject again as she faced me and Pithon, "Since we're talkin' 'bout traitors here, you two didn't heah da news. Cat found out and told us befoah goin' out. Jus' befoah you came in."

"What?" I asked, curiosity itching me. Pithon leaned forward eagerly in agreement and Artemis readily gave an answer.

"Duke," she said almost delightedly.

"Duke?" Pithon and I both asked simultaneously, but with different inflections. Pithon's eyes were wide and her tone was low, almost hushed. I, on the other hand, was completely clueless. Artemis gave Pithon an amused, yet disapproving look.

"You still infatuated, ain't ya."

"No," she denied indignantly and narrowed her eyes dangerously. Artemis left it at that.

"Anyway, he's back. Cat saw him."

Pithon's eyes widened again. "When? Does Spot know?"

"Jus' a while ago. You know how she knows da strangest ways to get back from Manhattan. She caught sight of him, but he didn't see her. She went straight here for Spot, he wasn't heah, den she went out to find him."

"Yeah, we saw her. But…he came _back_? After what Spot…well, he has nerve, don't he?"

I was feeling lost, out of place, and left out. And I did not like feeling lost, out of place, or left out. In fact I hated it.

"Who…is Duke?" They all turned to stare at me. Then comprehension flickered on Milkshake's face and a kind of gossipy expression took over her sharp-featured face.

"You really don't know, do ya."

"Nope."

"Yeah…you weren't heah."

All the girls seemed to crowd around us. "You're all horrible gossipers," Milkshake told them all sternly and then grinned. "Hehe. Alright, Ace. I'll tell ya."

"Duke," she began, "is a guy."

Of course, beginnings like this would always inspire sarcastic comments from others.

"No!"

"I don't believe it!"

"You didn't tell 'bout-"

"I'm tellin' da story!" Milkshake yelled furiously. Artemis and Sodapop grinned guiltily and I snickered. She then said, "Anyway, he used to be a Brooklynite. Note da 'used to be'. An' he's a knife fighter…one of da best ones dere are out dere. So-"

"Get on with it, will ya?"

"Y'gotta say how goooorgeous-"

"SHUT UP!"

"And what else?" I asked impatiently and Milkshake gave everyone a deadly glare before continuing.

"_Anyway_, he started…um…you'd call it 'underminin'? Yeah, underminin' da rest of da Brooklynites. Turnin' dem against Spot. Not all of dem, of course. Just da nasty ones, like Fire. Da rest of us stayed loyal an' Spot found out quickly enough."

"And?"

"An' dey fought."

"And?"

"Duke's good, but not as good as Spot at hand fightin'. He cheated with a knife, but lost anyhow."

I felt strangely smug as Milkshake added, "Lost badly. An' Spot turned him out of Brooklyn an' told him nevah to come back."

"Sounds like a drama or somethin'," I muttered, but then reminded myself that Spot had a touch for melodrama anyway. It was no longer surprising.

"So, dats da story. Dis was 'bout a year ago. An' he's actually dared to come back!"

She nudged Pithon playfully, who reddened. "Aren't you happy?"

"You are such a nut. He was_ sick_. He even went for Cat, you dope! Who in their right minds would do dat?"

"Yeah, yeah. But he was friendly, eh?"

Their bickering went on and I tuned them out. I was interested. Interested and a touch worried. Something was nagging me. She had said that Fire had been with this Duke's side. Now this guy was in Brooklyn. Fire had more or less disappeared. With a growing sense of unease, I followed along that track of thought quickly.

_Was_ there a connection? Or was it all just in my mind?

But if there was…

Fire alone was a harmless, immature bully who needed a good whacking. But if he was with Duke, who sounded all very nasty and evil, things could be and could get rather serious. I absentmindedly rubbed my gash and frowned. It _couldn't _be a coincidence. It just couldn't. Suddenly the incident with Jack and the problem about the strike seemed very small.

I had to talk to Spot.

* * *

**Author's Note: **What did you think? Poor Jackie-boy! I hope I did that scene alright, I didn't want to make it _too _dramatic and drawn out. In fact, I honestly couldn't because Ace doesn't feel as hurt or betrayed as everyone else was about Jack. Anyway, sorry it took so long for this to come up! 

Thank you sooooo much for the reviews…172 reviews! Whew! I'm amazed and feeling all fuzzy now. You guys are great!

By the way, watched Narnia recently; it is such a great movie. :D


	17. Unpredictable

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Woot, a new chapter. Long again…hope you'll enjoy this. Tell me what you think! It might be the chapter you all were waiting for...:D

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

I left the LH quickly, making up a lame excuse about wanting to stretch my legs. I could tell they didn't really believe it, but they didn't say anything to stop me. I frowned as I started down the street. Spot was probably was not in the best of moods now…but then again, who knows? He was unpredictable. He very well might be in his smirking mode. Either way, I _had _to talk to him.

My steps grew faster as my resolve hardened. The most likely place Spot would be was the docks, so I headed there. It had to be around five in the evening and the air was brisk as it was yesterday. I ignored the way some of the women stared at my bedraggled appearance and kept going, tugging my hat further down over my head in what seemed to be a growing habit. I didn't look _that _bad, did I?

I reached the docks soon enough and was startled to find it empty. I had expected it to be milling with Brooklynites. Odd. Maybe they were at Ray's. I stepped onto the wooden pier and looked around for Spot, my eyes first going to the crates where he was usually sitting on, like a king on his throne. But he wasn't there or anywhere else. I sighed disappointedly and started to turn away when I caught sight of a very familiar cane lying on top of an equally familiar shirt, which looked like it had been carelessly thrown aside. Rather horrified at its implications, I just gaped at the two items. I heard a splashing sound from the water behind me and I spun around to see Spot climbing out of the water.

Surprise flashed across his face to see me standing there and then he pulled himself up completely. Dripping wet, he swept a hand through his damp dirty-blonde hair, slicking it back, and eyed me appraisingly. "You wanted somethin'?" he asked, straightening.

For a full five seconds, my mind lost all intelligence and all I could do was stare at him. Woah. I guess being a Brooklynite leader required him to be fit. Because he really looked _good_. No wonder he was so popular with girls.

Spot's eyebrows rose as I didn't answer and he gave me one of his slow smirks. I felt heat creep up my neck and looked away, feeling utterly abashed. Why, why, why did Spot make me act like that all the time? It simply wasn't…fair.

"Put your shirt on; you look like a plucked chicken," I said snappishly and completely untruthfully, blushing violently the whole time. He chuckled, but to my immense relief, he did what I asked him to.

"Plucked chicken?" he snorted as he shrugged on his shirt. "Cute."

Cute?

Well, at least he wasn't in a bad mood. Maybe that swim had cooled him off. Encouraged, I grinned at him tentatively and sat down among some nets, drawing my knees up and wrapping my arms around them. He stayed where he was, still soggingly wet, but apparently not really caring. He took his cane and slung it through his belt loop before facing me with an expectant expression on his face.

"I wanted to talk to you," I started carefully and a look of interest entered his blue, grey-streaked eyes. Really interesting color, I thought distantly. Rather nice. And then gave myself a hard, mental slap. Get yourself together, I thought fiercely. Just because you saw him without a shirt doesn't mean you can go around drooling over his eyes and turning into mushy goo.

"Yeah? 'Bout?"

"Duke," I said simply, going straight to the point. The reaction was startling. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his mouth compressed into a tight line, and his whole body seemed to grow tense. The interest in his eyes turned into a kind of wary, dangerous look as though he was warning me to watch where I was headed. I quickly explained, my words coming out in an unorganized tumble.

"Look, what I want to say is, have you seen Fire recently?"

The tight lines around his mouth relaxed as he looked slightly confused. "What?"

"Have you?"

Mild amusement now in his voice, he crossed his arms and told me, "Hey, Ace, I'm da leadah. I know he's been gone for a few days." He paused and then continued decidedly, "You think Duke and Fire are together now, plottin' my gruesome demise. Am I right?"

"Yeah. You're right. In a way."

He was absolutely correct. As usual, he was way over my head and had guessed what I was going to say or do perfectly. And all I could do was just feel useless. How could he read me so well? It was _weird_. I pouted at him, not really angry, but unable to shake off that useless, pathetic feeling.

"How do you _do_ that?" I asked, speaking my thoughts out loud.

"Do what?"

"Foretell stuff. Guess what I'm gonna say. It's scary."

"You're predictable."

'_He was unpredictable.'_ That was what I had thought only a few minutes ago. Freaky. Very freaky. I sighed and grinned up at him again, not really sure what to feel.

"Is that such a bad thing?" I asked in mock-indignation and he smirked.

"In some ways, yeah," he replied smoothly and took out his sling. I watched as he pulled three marbles from his pocket, aimed for what seemed merely a millionth of a second, and smashed one of the abandoned beer bottle set down about a few yards away on a pile of wood. Almost simultaneously, the other two bottles were hit right after with astonishing accuracy. He saw the look on my face and smiled crookedly.

"You're too easily impressed, Ace."

I wrinkled my nose and drew my knees up closer to myself, "So? No, wait….hey. Amazing. Was that just a hint of modesty coming from you?"

He laughed, but he changed the subject. "So you heard about Duke, eh?" He was at ease now, but I sensed a hidden curiosity in his tone, as though he wanted to know exactly how much I learned about the former Brooklynite. He sat down in front of me in a carefree manner; his legs stretched out and his hands on the floor behind him to prop himself up. I thought over my answer.

"Yeah, but not really. Just a short story 'bout what happened. He sounds like a coward, to me. Cheating in that fight, trying to cut your legs from under you by attempting to turn the others against you."

He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat and I realized from that lack of a real answer that Duke must have been…like Jack. Someone he trusted and then stabbed him in the back. No wonder Spot seemed sensitive about the subject. I frowned and absentmindedly started to scratch my gash.

"Don't."

"Wha-oh," I sheepishly lowered my hand and pulled a wry face. "It's getting itchy."

"I see," his expression grew solemn and his eyes gave me a disapproving look, "Why didn't you let me soak him for ya. I never let anyone hurt my girls. Never."

"I appreciate your chivalry, but I told you already. I can take care of my own problems. See, he hasn't bothered me since, has he? Anyway, he's not worth it." Well, not physically, at least.

"I like how ya think, but Fire's been walkin' a thin line with me dese past days. He'll get his sooner or later."

I snickered, "You have lots of enemies, you know that?"

He flashed me a rakish, daredevil grin, which made him suddenly seem so appallingly attractive that warning signs went off in my head and I hastily tore my eyes away to stare at my feet before he saw my face grow crimson again. I fiddled idly with my pants leg, which I had folded the ends because it was too long for me.

"Next time, Ace," he said with a lazy drawl tainting his words, "Da next time he lays a hand on ya…" he allowed my imagination to finish his threat and then leaned forward a little, laying a hand across his knee in a disarming manner. "Anythin' else you wanted to talk 'bout?"

He had put a strange emphasis on 'talk'. I looked at him sharply and he smiled at me. Smugly, I felt, and my amiability slunk away in a dark storm of annoyance. Unbiddingly, my mind shot me a recap of what had happened yesterday when the two of us were alone and the annoyance grew indignantly. Oooh, he thought he was so perfect, didn't he? Use his good looks and make me swoon away into his arms in his waves of charm. Make me an addition to his many conquests of love. Ugh. I nonchalantly flipped my hair over my shoulder and looked straight into his eyes. Time for him to make things clear to me. Maybe being blunt would catch him off guard.

"Yeah," I said boldly, leaning forward as well. "I actually do have something to ask you. What on earth was that yesterday? At the Lodging House? That 'kiss', or whatever you would like to call it."

No reaction. None at all. The smugness was gone. Not a flicker of emotion appeared on his face. I sighed impatiently. I was sick of being so helplessly confused. I was sick of not knowing what to think of him, sick of worrying what he was thinking of _me_, and sick of being so unsure of it all. I felt like I was being led on and curse it, I _hated _feeling like I was being led on. I wanted some answers and if he was going to act so wretchedly superior, I was going to explode.

"You know what I'm talking about. Care to explain?"

Nothing.

I stared at him coldly. His gaze cool and collected, his face was such a hard mask I couldn't read what he was thinking. Then he startled me as he started laughing. But it was not at all a real, amused laugh. It wasn't even a mocking laugh. It was hollow and humorless, almost bitter in its emptiness. It sent stabs of chilly disquietude straight at my heart and I felt frozen as my previous forwardness vanished.

"Oh Ace," he finally said, something close to sarcasm dripping in his low tones, "Yoah so clueless. So…innocent. It's almost funny, really."

"What?" I asked weakly, drawing back as self-doubt and unease seeping in again. Why wouldn't he tell me? Was it because my theory, nasty and disgusting as it was, true and he didn't want to hurt my feelings? He didn't want me to go flounce off in a huff? Was he was just playing along? But if that was the case, wouldn't the most normal reaction be his smirk accompanied with teasing words? Not that laugh…or whatever it was.

I clearly saw the look he gave me, a look I couldn't interpret. Without another word, he began standing, his face again an impenetrable mask. I looked up at him and searched his eyes for an answer. Silently, he deliberately turned away and started down the pier, his long strides quickly bringing him farther and farther away.

So that was it. All of it was a game.

Or was it?

I couldn't bear it. I jumped to my feet and chased after him unceremoniously, disregarding all thoughts about my pride and esteem. He heard me coming up behind him, I'm sure, but he didn't stop walking or slow down. I halted, grabbed his arm, and turned him around forcibly. He faced me then, finally reacting as his eyes widened in surprise at my drastic action. I suppose no one did that to Spot, but I couldn't care less about _his _pride or esteem. He pulled his arm away so suddenly and so roughly that I nearly lost my balance. His reflexes were thankfully honed to the edge, because his other hand quickly shot out and steadied me. I refused to be grateful.

"You," I said bitingly, "did not answer my question. Don't just ignore me like that!"

"Ignore you? No one could evah ignore you, Ace."

He wasn't even being sarcastic, which at least would have made me angry. I couldn't even tell if he was serious or not. I groaned loudly, a small part of my mind extremely thankful that the docks were empty and that Spot and I were the only ones there.

"See?" I said exasperatedly and waved my hands at him in a frustrated manner, stepping closer, "Stop making perplexing remarks and dodging around my questions, for goodness sake. Tell me what you meant or I'll be pondering 'bout them endlessly again until my head feels like its going to burst!"

His impassiveness was gone now and his eyebrows were raised again. He looked definitely interested at my words and actions. "You think 'bout me endlessly?"

Embarrassed, I looked down. "And now you're laughing at me," I muttered flatly, starting to feel resigned to my fate of eternally wondering about Spot. He was probably going to evade my questions forever. "Tell me," I tried again. "Please." I knew I was practically begging, but I just had to _know. _

He went very still. He didn't look uncomfortable, just like he was thinking his next words over. I returned his direct, steady gaze, throwing in a bit of a challenge in my own. To any outsider, we must have looked quite queer, just staring into each other's eyes in what was somewhat similar to a battle of wills. I waited with bated breath, not realizing that I was hoping against hope about what his answer was going to be.

"I think," he started slowly and I noticed vaguely that his voice was a shade deeper than usual, "dat maybe dis will explain things better."

Before I could figure out what he meant, he smiled that reckless smile again, though his eyes seemed unsure. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. My breath caught in my throat in a surprised gasp and I felt myself instinctively draw back in panic, but at some point his arm had gone around me and I was in a gentle, but firm hold that wasn't exactly an embrace.

Spot was kissing me.

_He_ _was_ _kissing_ _me_.

Millions of thoughts flashed across and through my mind in dizzying speed. Horrified alarm…blank shock…and then another flare of panic that was chased away as the kiss sent fiery thrills of ecstasy licking up my spine. I didn't care whether we had been arguing vehemently a few days ago. I didn't care about past embarrassments and disagreements. I just simply didn't _care_. All that mattered was this indescribable feeling that swept all thoughts from my mind. I slowly relaxed in his arms and closed my eyes involuntarily as his hand caressed my cheek, feeling a wonderful sense of security which I wanted to never end.

He broke away first, leaving me gulping for breath like a fish. He, on the other hand, was unruffled as usual…but he had a small smile on his face as he brushed my hair back from my face. "All yoah little doubts gone now?"

"Rather," I managed to say, still trying to calm my racing heart. I realized I was half-clinging to him for support because I was feeling a bit dizzy. His smile deepened and he planted a soft kiss on my forehead, carefully avoiding my gash. If he still wasn't holding me, I really would have swooned away happily in his arms. I gathered my reasoning and my wits with a tremendous amount of effort, and then noticed something.

"I'm wet."

I felt his lips curve into a smirk. "Sorry 'bout dat," he said, not bothering to move his mouth from my face. Then he stepped back, his hands on my shoulders in a position quite like the day before. "Now dat we've come to an understandin', how 'bout we start ovah?"

I smiled and opened my mouth to agree, when I felt the same previous warning bells ring distantly. I felt myself tense as I looked at him, worry beginning to trickle through the haze and dazzle of attraction. This was _Spot_. What had been going through his mind when he kissed me? What was going through his mind now? And in fact, I thought dully with dismay as the magic of the kiss started to fade, nothing had become clear at all. I had no idea whether his intentions were real or not. I closed my mouth and shifted.

He quickly and easily noticed my hesitation. A frown creased his brows and his gaze slightly narrowed.

"What's wrong?"

"I…," I stammered, "Look, Spot, I don't…I mean, how can I know you're…"

The frown disappeared and his eyes cleared as an amused light entered them. "Ah."

"I can't…because you've…"

"You've been hearin' things 'bout my flings. So you're wonderin' if dis is real or not."

I was relieved and grateful for his perceptiveness. "Yes," I admitted, feeling rather sheepish.

"Yoah still funny, Ace," he said with that same entertained air. I glared at him.

"I'm being serious."

"Alrigh', let me tell you dis: You ain't _anythin'_ like da others. You've got a personality. Dey didn't. Ask anybody," he stopped for a second and added a little too quickly, as though he didn't like saying it, "An' ask dat same person if he's evah seen _me_ like dis."

I was taken aback at his openness. His grip on my shoulders tightened and his eyes bore into mine, "_I'm _being serious, Ace," he said earnestly, watching my face carefully, "Believe me, I've never been serious 'bout dese things. Dey never was either. But…dis is different. It _has _to be different. You've gotta see dat.

"I love ya. Ace. I really do. But you've nevah let me show you."

Was that…_desperation _in his voice?

Well, probably not. More like…an eagerness to make me understand. But whatever it was, I was probably the only one to ever hear it. That fact alone was enough. I looked up at him and couldn't help but grin widely from ear to ear like an idiot.

"So you aren't gonna go around two-timing me?" I asked carefully, aware that I was sounding a bit like a child, but I had to know this too. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards at my tone.

"No," he laughed in a half-whisper. I stared at him, my feelings and emotions tearing at each other in my mind as I fought doubts and worries. I knew if I was gonna get into a relationship with anyone, I was going to give my all. But I had to be sure first. I wouldn't be able to bear it if Spot cheated on me or admitted that this was all just an amusement.

The moment stretched. This was impossible, I thought bitterly. I couldn't just plunge into this. Not with someone like Spot. But, I also realized slowly, that didn't mean I was going to reject him. I was going to give him a chance. Until then…I'll hold back. It was up to him to prove himself to me. It was a bit sad, but I just _couldn't _trust him enough.

"Well? Do you believe me?" He asked. If he had displayed impatience on his face at my hesitance, or anger, I probably would have thought better of my decision. But as it was, he was calm and collected, as though trusting in whatever I would say. Faith, I told myself. That was what it was. Essential in lovers. A good sign, right?

I smiled at him then.

"That probably won't keep me from giving those other girls a good punch in the nose if I ever meet them, but yeah. I believe you."

His face slowly broke into a tremendously triumphant grin that made him devastatingly alluring again and I fought off another wave of dizziness.

"Screw you Ace," he said playfully, "You've no idea what you've put me through."

I slugged lightly him in the shoulder. "For a flirt and a womanizer, you aren't very good at making advances. You could have just told me. All you did was sit around acting like a jerk, making vague remarks and-"

"Yeah, you explained dat part. Doesn't matter now, does it?" he said huskily and, as if on an impulse, unexpectedly stepped closer again to covered his lips on my mouth with a fierceness that completely took my breath away. His hands entangled themselves in my hair and heat flooded my body as he deepened the kiss. I felt a slight tremor in him as I paused, plucked up courage, and responded with equal fervor.

I have no idea how long we stood there, our lips locked in mutual passion, but it was mind-numbing bliss that seemed to last for an eternity. We pulled apart eventually and he gave me another uncharacteristic grin. He really was unpredictable, I thought and then smiled almost childishly as I realized that I loved it. There was no way anybody could fall for him any harder than I already just did. And I didn't care.

* * *

**Author's Note:** (jumps around excitedly) Well? How was it? Was it good? Was it too rushed? Was Spot in character? Did Ace change too suddenly? I seriously need feedback:D By the way, the link to my Ace page in my profile works now because I updated it. So check it out if you want. As usual, thanks to all the reviews!


	18. Conversations

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Here's another chapter. Long again and not much happens, but hopefully you all will like it. Mostly talking, except around the end. Oh, and Philip comes back in.

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

So.

I was now sitting next to a guy who, in a mere matter of three weeks or so, had humiliated me, infuriated me, had made me so mad that I wanted to knock his head off with something large and heavy and pushed me off this exact same spot into the water for me to _drown_, for goodness sake. (Well, maybe not drown) And what else? He had helped me out about the whole Fire thing, saved me from that officer, and pounded Oscar into the dirt for menacing me. And, on top of it all, he went off and kissed me! Isn't life _weird_?

That flash of desperation – okay, _eagerness _– that I had seen from Spot was quite gone. He was back in his cocky, confident attitude, more than usual, as though he was trying to make up for that little outburst. Anyway, it was apparent now that he was feeling and thinking quite differently from what his attitude suggested. I'd be happy if he opened up a little more, but ah well, that was the stage we were in now, right? Finding out more about each other? The stage, that is, in our relationship, if you could call it that.

Well, I did want to find out more about Spot. I decided to be frank about it.

"You know," I started carelessly, swinging my legs over the water in an idle manner, "I don't know a single thing about you?"

"Naw," he drawled lazily.

"I mean, I don't really _know _you. Like _know_."

"Ya know Ace," he said slowly, enunciating each word with clear care, "You keep tellin' me dat I don't make sense, but to tell ya da truth, you don't make sense either. What on earth are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"See, I know you, like your name and all that junk. But I don't know _you_…" I paused and made a wry face. "I really _am_ not makin' any sense."

I think only Spot could pull off a smirk so 'silvery'. "Okay. An' yoah point was?"

"We should learn more 'bout each other," I declared earnestly.

"Dat…should be quite interesting."

We were still at the docks, sitting on the wooden pier with our legs dangling over the water. It was dark, but it was light enough for me to see Spot turn his head and look at me mischievously with the moonlight reflect the intent gleam in his eyes. I grew still and found myself unconsciously admiring him again. His mouth that seemed to be always curved in a superior smirk (though now it was casually smiling), that infuriatingly _perfect_ nose, and the cutting eyes…it was almost unbelievable how good-looking he was. No wonder, I admitted again, he was so popular with girls.

Yeah.

I stiffened, angry at myself and at the thought that had entered my mind. I was going to give him a chance, right? So stop being such a demanding diva. Gah, I sounded like one of those jealous, overprotective, and over possessive girls who I usually looked down on with disgust. I glanced at him again to see that same observing gleam and smiled rather weakly, realizing he had been looking me over as well.

At that same time, he moved over enough to press his lips on my hair and then brushed them against my now-closed eyes before sweeping me up into another spell-binding kiss. Honestly, I thought hazily as I unconsciously leaned towards him, he should give some kind of warning instead of giving me random smooches right out of the blue.

With some effort, I wrenched away, fighting to get back to reality. He was an amazing kisser (definitely…) and I would have loved to continue it, but things were moving way too fast. I wasn't about to give my mind, body, and soul to someone I only knew on the surface. We were, what you would call _together_, but not intimately. Yet. I took a deep breath and forced my former, slightly untactful subject back.

"We are going to ask questions to each other. Questions you have to answer."

He looked so appalled that I laughed. He then looked indignant. "What? Questions?"

"Yeah. Like truth or dare, but it's truth or truth."

"Why?"

I ignored that. "Let's do this properly. First off, the introductions."

He started to protest, but I cut him off with a "Humor me."

"Whatever you say, princess," he said resignedly, which was better than nothing. I jumped up and gave him a low, exaggerated curtsy. "My name, _sir_, is Ace."

He smirked at my exuberance and then smoothly got to his feet, sort of uncurling his long frame in a graceful motion. He gave me a familiar bow, his face mock-serious while he said, "Wonderful, I must say, to meet ya. I am da one an' only Spot Conlon, _King_ of Brooklyn. I'm blessed with overflowing charm an' stunnin' good looks," he added quickly.

"You are a conceited git and heaven help us if this relationship is actually going to work out," I retorted and sat back down. He smirked and slipped next to me. "Let us begin. How old are you?" He considered, leaning back with his arms on the floor behind him.

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen…you don't look eighteen."

Indignancy again. With just a hint of warning.

"Ahm, okay, your turn."

"I can't believe I'm doin' dis," he muttered uncomfortably and I watched him pitilessly. "What's yoah real name?" he asked at length. I stared at him with growing horror.

"That's not fair!"

"Well, you started dis questions game thing," his mouth curled back into an almost evil sneer and I scowled at him. "What's yoah real name?"

"You'll laugh."

He placed his hand over his heart solemnly. "I sweah, I won't crack a smile."

"You can't ever, ever tell. Or I'll…do things."

"Woe be upon me if I evah utter a word."

"I'll maim you if you talk."

"Dat'll be a sight…"

"Hey!"

"Shall be silent as da grave, m'lady."

I groaned. "Alright. It's…ugh…Ashley." I winced. "Ashley _Benette_."

"Ashley. Ashley," he repeated, as though trying to get used to it and for some reason I involuntarily shivered at the sound of my name coming from his lips. "Well. It's not dat bad. It could have been somethin' like…ah…_Sue_. Dat wouldn't do at all."

I put on my best queenly look. "What if it _was _Sue?"

He smirked again. "I'd never talk to ya again."

I must have looked tremendously shocked, because he laughed one of his rare infectiously good-humored laughs again. "I'm jus' messin' with ya, Ace. Don't take things to heart so much. You'll be happier."

I huffed, but I couldn't help grinning. "You are perfectly insufferable."

"Dat's why y'love me."

"You're so full of yourself, did you know that too?"

"But of course."

"Heh. Well, _my_ turn," I snickered with blatant joy. He rolled his eyes and sighed again. I thought for a while and asked maliciously, "What scares you?"

"…you're enjoyin' dis, ain't ya?"

"You agreed!"

Actually, I was rather surprised at myself. I probably would never dare to ask someone like Spot this kind of a question. And to think that Spot was actually being cooperative! I was pretty sure if I were someone else he'd be either freezing that person up with one of his icy glares or soaking him thoroughly. Who knew that a kiss could change situations so much? I smiled. Conversations with Spot were beginning to be, dare I say it, _fun_. His humor was exactly the type I enjoyed: witty and dry.

He was now frowning darkly. He struggled a bit with his manly pride…no, a bit was not right. A _lot_. He was silent, thinking it over, obviously. I waited and felt wonderfully superior. Finally, he spat it out.

"Bees."

I gawked, gaped, and gawped at him. He uncomfortably glared at me. "What."

"Bees!"

"I'm allergic to dem. Nearly died once."

"Oh. Well," I wanted to add something, but left it at that as I found myself speechless. I really, really did _not _know Spot.

"What's _yoah _biggest fear?"

"Fears," I corrected and his lips twitched. I didn't mind; I had no problems with 'manly pride' as he did. "Crocodiles, guys who giggle, bugs, rejection, crocodiles, drowning, and crocodiles. Did I mention crocodiles?"

"Crocs?"

"Yeah. Is this a secret?"

There was a pause. Then, "Dere you go again. Explain."

"Oh. I mean, you. Me. Us."

"'Course not. Unless you want to," he said, looking at me curiously and I shook my head quickly, a little hurt of what he was insinuating.

"Not at all. Don't be silly."

We fell silent and I realized distantly that this was the first time that our silences were actually comfortable. Another change for the better. Hopefully these changes would keep on going.

"Who was yoah first guy?"

I jerked in surprise at the unexpected question. I glanced at him and then down at my hands, wondering what his reaction would be at the answer. I looked at him again with a kind of embarrassed sheepishness. "You."

He raised his eyebrows slowly. "Well," his eyes narrowed with barely concealed laughter as he observed, "Aren't we full of surprises?"

My face felt like it was on fire. "Don't be snide," I retorted snidely.

"So what you're saying is," he continued pleasantly, "Dat was your first kiss?"

I was practically burning now. "Yes," I squirmed and then asked quietly, "Could you tell?"

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth deepening with humor. "Not really. It was jus'…_different._"

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Whichever one you want it."

"Don't be sarcastic either," I informed him cynically.

"Hypocrite," he returned with poised calm.

The playful bantering went on. I must say, I enjoyed it. It was such fun to match wits with him. I took no offense at his subtle (or not-so-subtle) insults and he did the same with mine.

I found out more about Spot through my little game than I expected to. Or wanted to, maybe. For example, he despised the color yellow. He had been practicing his slingshot thing for about four years (I believed him). He hated books. He hated adults. (Lots of dislikes, eh?) He liked music fairly enough. Water cooled his temper off, so he usually went swimming or took a bath to calm his mind. Or something like that. He had dumped and been dumped about five times in all but, according to him, never cared. I looked at him when he said that, slightly disturbed at the carelessness of his tone as he talked.

He _was _a bit of a jerk, I admitted to myself. But then again, Spot wouldn't be Spot if he didn't have that little dash of…well, faint malice. _Faint_ malice. Not Fire's bullying nature or Duke's evidently evil one, because unlike them, Spot knew when to stop. He was very loyal, that was for sure. And he knew his duties as a leader. Still, he had that bit of mild nastiness. You could tell in the way he expressed himself, in the words he chose. But, I realized with some surprise, I didn't mind. I probably wouldn't like him as much as I was starting to if he was all goody-goody. Heh. He'd be downright boring.

We talked well into the night and it was only when I found myself literally falling asleep that we started back to the LH. I was drowsy with sleep and he had a hard time keeping me awake because I kept tripping. Before we parted, he gave me a quick, teasing kiss in front of the girls' room, half-smirked and half-smiled at my dazed look, and then slipped into the boys'.

I stayed where I was for a second, mentally replaying the complete turnabout of events in my mind. Spot _loved _me. I knew it'd be some time until I got over that little fact. There were still some things that needed explaining, but there was time for that as well. I quietly headed for my bunk and threw myself down before realizing that I couldn't suddenly sleep because I was ridiculously happy.

* * *

The day was sure to be humid, Spot predicted as he awoke. He always rose at six, no matter how late he had gone to bed the night before. His inner alarm clock never failed him. He glanced at the still sleeping boys around him and shook his head at their laziness. They would probably go on sleeping until noon. Well, they better enjoy it, he thought darkly. Soon enough they'd be selling papes again. Frowning slightly, he stepped lightly outside for a stroll.

What a day yesterday was, Spot mused, lifting his head up to squint at the brightening sky above. Jack's betrayal and then Ace's sudden explosion against Pithon. His humor returned with the memory. The look on Pithon's face had been priceless. Ace _did _have the makings of a good street fighter in her. Aware of his surroundings but at the same time lost in thought, what would have happened if he and the others hadn't intervened in their scuffle.

His thoughts then strayed for the millionth time to the kiss, the one moment when he had finally allowed himself to hope that Ace might actually feel the same way he did. She returned the kiss, didn't she? Her little tirade before that had been rather alarming, because for one rare moment, Spot didn't know how to react. The kiss had been an impulse, an impulse carried through, and he knew it had been a right one. She had responded quite well.

But Ace was so…so…_careful_. An amused smile grew on his face and he tapped his cane on the ground thoughtfully. That little question game had been entertaining, but it showed, hinted, more like, that she didn't trust him yet. Not all the way. In truth, he thought she was being surprisingly mature about this. Other girls would blindly accept him after a kiss like that. Smart girl, he smirked. But she was getting there. This needed just a little more work. But all in all, things were practically perfect. _She _was perfect. A little too artless maybe, but over all perfect.

And life itself would be perfect if it wasn't for Jack and…Duke.

Jack's incident was all clear. Spot felt his mouth tug back in an involuntary sneer at the thought. He knew what had happened. They showed the dirty traitor a sufficient amount of money, tempted him with that stupid dream of Santa Fe (which really was just that: a dream), and off he went. Sure, Spot had thought Jack had more to him than that, but his surprise was now firmly clamped down.

What he hated the most about this was how much Jack's betrayal hurt him. He should have known. He should have somehow expected it.

Duke. That was different. Why did he come back? Why come back now? Though he'd never admit it, Spot was slightly uneasy. He had given Duke a clear warning. No one ever ignored a warning from him. Ever. No matter how long it had been since it had been given. Not only was it a blatant disregard for his authority, but everyone expected him to do something about it. A dark smile crossed his face and his steps grew faster. Well, they weren't going to be disappointed. Duke should have known better.

* * *

"And then he…uh…kissed me."

"He _what!_"

"He uh-"

"Kissed ya? _Spot?_"

"No, sorry, my mistake. It was Pulitzer."

"Very funny. But he _did_!"

"Spot _finally _kissed ya. Took his time, didn't he?"

I peered suspiciously at Milkshake. "What?"

She rolled her eyes expressively. "Oh please. Everyone knew you were head over heeeeels in love with our great leadah." She shoved me playfully, though it was strong enough for me to make me sit back down hard onto my bunk.

I blinked at her words and said defensively, crossing my arms, "No. I'm not in love with him. I mean, I wasn't. Maybe. I don't love him now either. Not _love_. It's not-"

"Yeah, yeah," Pithon interrupted again, this time impatiently. "And den what?"

"We talked," I said uncomfortably, squirming under Pithon, Sodapop, and Milkshake's gazes. I now knew what it felt to be a pinned bug.

"…Oh."

Disappointed silence.

"You talked."

"Yes."

"Gah, you're borin'. What did you talk 'bout?"

"Stuff."

"Liiike?"

"Bees and crocodiles."

Laughter erupted; they thought I was joking. I played along, snickering along with the three. I hadn't wanted to talk about yesterday, but they had noticed my absence and demanded an explanation. I knew it wasn't a secret, this thing with Spot and me, but I felt somehow uncomfortable about speaking about it. Anyway, they had probably seen something in my face and they only pressed me further…and out the words came.

They were now talking about how they predicted it all.

"It was so obvious, Ace. You had a crush on him befoah yesterday, admit it!"

"I did not!"

"Den why da sudden change of heart?"

"I don't know. 'Cos it was one amazin' kiss? 'Cos we talked things over? 'Cos we've come to an understanding?"

"No, no, no. You've _got _to have liked him befoah dat. Stuff don't happen like dat don't happen unless-"

"You know it's my birthday in eleven days," I burst out desperately.

Stunned silence.

"Alrigh'," Pithon said with a laugh, "We'll take pity on ya."

Milkshake gave me a smirk only someone with loads of practice could manage. "Yeah. We get yoah hint."

"So, how old are ya turnin'?" Sodapop asked in such a tone that seemed to imply something other than the simple question she was asking.

I was immensely grateful for the change of subject though. The topic then turned to how weird it was that I was turning eighteen because according to them I didn't look eighteen either ('either' because of what I said to Spot) and to guessing at Sodapop's age and birthday.

"Well," I broke in, uncomfortably aware of the sly look in Pithon's face, "I'm gonna find some breakfast."

"Sure."

"See ya 'round."

"Bye," Milkshake chirped and quickly added, "Spot's probably at Ray's too, not dat it matters, of course."

"Yeah. Yoah deah, wondahful, perfect Spot."

"Doncha love da way his hair falls across his piiiiiercin' eyes?"

I fled.

I couldn't go to Ray's; I didn't even have the money. Seems stealing or begging were my only options, and of the two, I think I was going to head for the first. Begging just wasn't my thing, especially in the morning.

I stepped into the dirty streets, quietly groaning as heat struck me full in the face. I hate humid, blazing days. Just…horrible. I walked slowly towards the market square and looked around at the 'open' stores with no doors, the many vendors, and the woven baskets acrossthe servants' armsas they bought food. It was lunch in two hours and most of the shopping was by servants buying for their masters' lunches. I quickly dismissed them. I didn't want to cause them trouble.

Stealing was a tricky thing to pull off. You had to have the right distraction, the right moment, and you couldn't take too much or the guy at the vendor – I was planning to get some food off a vendor - would notice too soon. I wasn't that good at it and Artemis was in too much of a bad mood recently because of her big, blow-out with Jackal to be someone I could ask a favor of.

I then noticed a tall, stout man with a blatantly fakish smile on his face as he belted out offers and the cheap prices. I watched him, noting how he never faced his right side and concentrated on trying to sell his food (meat pies, mmm…) to the people on his left. He had the appearance of a bulldog with his thick neck. When he moved, he moved slowly, sluggishly. Perfect.

I confidently headed that way, slipping my way around the crowd towards the vendor's right. The man paid me no attention, busy fawning over a lady customer. I waited until she left and he started calling out tantalizing descriptions of the pies, making _me _hungry. He turned away slightly and I eased my way over. I carefully took one of the pies and quickly slid away, a huge grin splitting my face. The guy was correct with his descriptions. I smiled down at my precious food. It _did _smell good. Still going at a casual, but fast pace, I glanced over my shoulder back at the vendor and saw that the man had not noticed me or the missing pie. Artemis couldn't have done it better.

I turned back around with another grin and then jumped back with a cross between a horrified shriek and a surprised gasp escaping my lips.

"You!"

Fire leered at me. "Glad to see me?"

Remember what I said about Spot being a different kind of nasty than Fire? Though that was an eerily Spot-like remark, he'd never leer. He'd smirk. Even sneer, maybe. But never _leer_. See what I mean?

I quickly recovered from my surprise and took a step back so that we had more distance between us. Iput on my best 'excuse-me, you-of-the-inferior-species, did-you-speak?' lookon my face and did my best to cross my arms and keep a firm grip on my pie at the same time.

Ignoring what he said, I snapped frostily, "What do you want."

Without another word (just that same leer), he grabbed the arm that was holding the pie and started dragging me back to the vendor. For a few seconds I was so surprised I just stumbled after him in dumb silence. Then I realized what he was doing and dropped the pie quickly. He simply picked it up with an irritatingly evil grin.

"Let. Me. Go," I kicked the back of his knees repeatedly, furious at such pointless malice. He ignored me and continued playing policeman. Ugh! How brainlessly childish could one get? He was actually bending to be a tattle-tale, just to spite me. No wait. He was already too low to bend. I kicked him again, fully glad to see him wince.

"What," came a mildly bemused voice, "are you doing?"

Fire stopped. I stopped. And stared. Right there, in front of us as the people moved past, stood the guy I had met the day before yesterday. The extraordinarily good-looking guy. Philip Danford. I was stunned at his sudden appearance. Fire narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him and his grip tightened painfully.

"Who're you."

Philip looked down his nose at him; he was able to, 'cos he was a good five inches taller. "I don't see why that's any of your business." He turned to me and I couldn't help but be dazzled by that smile again. I really couldn't help it. "Hello again."

"Hey," I muttered, my wrist growing numb as Fire's hand didn't loosen. Phillip looked pointedly at my hand and then back at Fire again with dark eyes. Fire sneered at him and spat filthily. Yuck. Spitting was okay if you could do it right. If people like Fire did it, it just made them seem like pigs.

"Looks like you've charmed even strangers into comin' to yoah help," he was saying to me, pure loathing in his voice. Before I could think up a scathing remark, Philip took a furious step forward, eyes flashing with anger, something I saw for the first time from him. He suddenly looked incredibly dangerous, what with his imposing height and build. I knew Fire had realized it too, because he flinched visibly and let go of my senseless hand instantly. I instinctively rubbed it, wondering what had made Fire do that without a word of order coming from Philip. Presence, I told myself. It's all about presence.

He glared at me and then at Philip before spitting again. "Spoiled git," he growled at him and then turned to me, sneered again, threw down the pie, ground it under his feet, and then stormed off before I could utter a word. I stared with dismay at the food, disappointment rising my throat. There goes my late breakfast. Poor, poor pie. Poor, poor me.

I turned to Philip and I probably looked ready to cry, because a concerned expression entered his eyes. Before he said anything, I turned away and strode down the street. I wasn't surprised when he easily kept up with me with long strides.

"Did he hurt you?"

I stopped, struggled for words, and finally wailed a desolate, "No!"

He glanced back at where the pie lay on the ground and then cocked one noble, quizzical eyebrow at me. "Is it because-"

"Do you have any idea," I choked, "how _hard _it is to get a meat pie for breakfast!"

The edges of his mouth quirked downwards and I could see he was on the verge of laughter. He gave an admirable display of self-control as he bowed his head in an acknowledging gesture. "Meat pies are indeed a rare delicacy to us poor."

I laughed and said bluntly, "Keep that up and people really will think you're a git."

He smiled benignly. "Here. Let me buy you another pie."

I stared at him as he gently pulled me towards the same vendor. Was he serious? They were rather expensive…a dime or so each. I remembered my manners a little too late and started to protest, but I was already staring hungrily at the pie he picked up. It was larger than the one I had stolen. Much larger. He paid the man I had stolen one from. Where did he get that much money? He gave it to me and my hands closed around it instinctively.

"Oh…thanks," I said rather helplessly.

"No problem."

I headed for a more or less secluded area and sat down on the street, a little confused. Why was he doing all this for me? He was practically a stranger; just someone I ran into and had a conversation with. He settled down next to me, too close for my liking (what with his looks) but I forced my thoughts away. I took one bite, deliciously savoring the taste and he watched me calmly.

"Thanks also, by the way, with Fire," I said, gesturing towards where he had come across us. He frowned.

"Fire. That's the boy's name?"

I licked my lips and smirked at his choice of words. "Yep. And that's all he is. Just an immature boy with an immature grudge."

I then explained, since he deserved an explanation. He laughed and shook his head with disapproval at appropriate parts. As before, I started to relax and my former doubts slid away. He was so easy to talk to and so comfortable with himself, which made me comfortable with him.

Of course, I didn't think of him in any way than just a growing friend. I shouldn't. I mean, I had Spot. Anyway, I couldn't image Philip Danford _with _anyone. He seemed to be one of those solitary, standing-alone people. He looked good just by himself. Then again, he'd look good anywhere, with or without anyone. I suppose.

"So, how are you planning on putting an end to this feud with you and Fire?" he asked and I licked my lips again, and then my fingers. I shrugged and took another big bite.

"I'll see what happens," I said flippantly, my mouth full. He did have a point though. Just what was I planning on doing? Fire was the kind of person who only responded to intimidation and I knew I certainly wasn't intimidating.

"Don't your other newsie friends help you?"

"Well, Spot helped me," I replied quickly, a little defensive at his incredulous tone.

The incredulity left his face when I mentioned Spot. To my surprise, his dark eyes flickered with something akin to dark, deep hatred. I was startled and felt a disturbing chill trace its finger down my spine. I remembered my doubts the last and first time I met him and they returned in full force. There had to be some connection with him and the Brooklyn newsies. He justcouldn't be a friendly stranger who popped out of nowhere to talk with me.

Then his face was again back in its easy coolness, so quickly and so completely that I wondered whether I had imagined that sudden lack of control.

Control? No, not control. Because that wouldmean that this was all a pretense. Philip couldn't be that kind of a person. Could he? Anyway, what would be the purpose? What reasons would he have?

"Spot, eh?"

"Yeah," I said carefully. "Spot Conlon. Ever heard of him?"

He smiled faintly. "Yes. Had a few…unpleasant run-ins with him."

If he had denied to have heard of Spot, I would have instantly been suspicious. Since he admitted readily enough, Ifelt my doubts slip away again. I believed him. And I wasn't about to ask prying questions. I knew how Spot could be infuriating sometimes. He probably had that effect on Philip. I nodded and finished my pie quickly, for the first time in a long time my stomach satisfied.

I stood up and he stood up along with me. Feeling dwarfed, I moved back and grinned at him, genuinely happy. "Thanks again. It was delicious. Exquisite. Delectable. A perfect way to start the day."

He returned the grin and inclined his head again in gesture that was starting to become familiar. "Hope to see you again soon…Ace."

I froze as he leaned over and brushed his lips lightly against my cheek. He straightened and smiled down at my shocked look. I wished he hadn't done that. I very, very much wished he hadn't. Because I was confused again. And uneasy.

"You know," I said quietly, "I'd better make things clear. I'm _with _Spot."

He raised his eyebrow in that horribly nonchalant way and I blushed and looked down, hating the way I was reacting.I swallowed and continued, "I'm _with _Spot. It…we…just yesterday we got together. Anyway, I don't even know you. Don't…you know, start things." I stammered, expecting coldness or an explosion.

I certainly didn't expect him to see him smile in that knowing way. I shifted under that intense gaze and felt thoroughly stupid. Yet again, he bowed his head slightly in a nod and seemed to take no heed to my words. "I'll see you," he said simply and left me staring after his tall form, noticeable in the bustle of people because he towered over everyone else. I watched him go until he was swallowed up by the distance and the people, feeling strangely like I had done something wrong.

* * *

**Author's Note:** What did you think? I hope it wasn't boring or anything, but it was needed to get the things going. One of those chapters. :D I'm pretty sure 'truth or dare' didn't exist back then, but hope you guys don't mind that much. Also had a bit of Spot's POV, which I thought was needed. Hope you liked it…and wow! 209 reviews! Definitely something I'm extremely happy about!

By the way…last Tuesday (March 28th, to be priggishly exact), was my birthday! I'm now 15 and five days!


	19. Spot and Fire

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Hmm…not quite sure what to think about this chapter. Well, it's just a little over 12 pages long; fairly long! And the story's drawing to an end…

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

My steps were slow and unsure when I started making my way to Ray's. There was a nagging thought at the back of my mind, telling me I was missing something important. My usual curiosity was itching at me and I mused over just who Danford was.

I meant to ask Spot about Philip; he would know something about him. I absently rubbed the back of my neck, which was growing sweaty from the heat, and flicked a few wet strands of hair away from my face. I frowned worriedly, pondering over Philip's words.

_Had a few…unpleasant run-ins with him._

He had said it so casually. He had made it seem as though those 'run-ins' were merely some hot arguments. Maybe they had bumped into each other. Something trivial. I had accepted that, because it made sense. Then he had to go off and make things complicated. Surely he would have reacted differently after I had told him Spot and I were starting a relationship? I bit my lip as unease and uncertainty wormed their way in.

He was nice. He was courteous. He was the perfect picture of what I thought a gentleman was. But he was hiding something. All the signs were there. He evaded my questions, albeit smoothly and with tact, but he _was_ evading them. Then there was that sudden uber-scary moment when he looked positively murderous when I mentioned the name 'Spot'.

Yep. He was definitely hiding something.

Still, it was a good thing he appeared when he did. I shivered as I thought over what would have happened if he didn't. Fire would have declared me as a thief, the bulldog man would have called a nearby officer, and I'd be escorted right off to the refuge. Well. It was surprisingly intelligent of Fire to have thought of a perfect way to get revenge. I snorted quietly. Maybe hanging out with that Duke guy was helping him be more cleverly evil.

I soon reached Ray's and glanced in to see most of the boys and a few girls (Artemis and Cat, to be exact). I drove all my questions about Philip from my mind for the moment.. I didn't want everyone to look up and see me standing there with a deep, confused look on my face. So, as nonchalantly as possible, I opened the door and noticed immediately how cool it was inside compared to the heat outdoors, despite the fact that it was filled with the newsies.

I automatically looked around and picked out the teenager with the dark blonde-streaked hair, sitting carelessly at one table. Pike and Pilot sat next to him, snickering over some crude joke (it has to be crude…) and eating lunch. Spot's eyes met mine almost immediately after I found him and I strangely felt like someone was pouring warm water over me. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. He nodded me over and Pilot, to his and my surprise, was promptly kicked off his chair for me.

"Hey," I said to Spot with a grin and turned to do the same with Pike, only to see him with an incredulous look. He shot Spot a suspicious stare. Spot returned the stare contemptuously and silently leaned across the table to give me a kiss full on the mouth. For a second I was startled at the forthright move, but he pulled back quickly before it deepened. I blinked and then grinned again at him.

"That was quite a greeting," I quipped. Then I saw Pike's mouth fall open.

And the room went dead silent.

"Lookin' good today." He gave the compliment easily, but his voice sounded almost too loud in the sudden silence. His words promptly sent me into a blushing fit as always and the quiet seemed to deepen. "Anythin' goin' on?"

"Nothing much," I faltered as I realized my voice was unnaturally loud as well. I tried to lower my tone. "I just wanted to talk to…" I glanced around and saw Artemis gaping at me. "You. Wanted to talk to you." I finished lamely, turning back to Spot. The glint in the steel gray in his eyes with the flecks of light blue grew and his mouth quirked upwards.

"You'd think dese boggle-eyed morons have nevah seen a good kiss befoah, eh?"

I choked back a loud snicker. Boggle-eyed morons? That sounded suspiciously like something _I_ would say. What was he doing stealing my lines?

"Well, come on," he said, standing up with his usual smooth grace that came from being quick on his feet, "Outside," he gestured towards the door with an arm.

I couldn't keep myself from keeping a grin from spreading across my face when I stood up with him to the door. Everyone stared at us with a kind of stunned amazement that made me stifle another laugh. Spot opened the door for me (well, now, he _can _be a gentleman when he wants to) and I stuck out a tongue at the gawking Brooklynites before walking out with a self-satisfied smile.

Once outside though, I completely cracked up.

"Did you see…did you see their faces? Pike looked like…like he just discovered the world was round!" I snickered, my eyes tearing. Spot smiled after a moment, though he didn't really get why I chose that certain phrase but humoring me anyway.

"Guess dey expected you to fly at me with all yoah claws out," he said dryly, flashing a grin at me. I winced at his choice of words.

"That was before," I said, defensive in my embarrassment, "I didn't understand you then."

"And you understand me now, eh?"

I looked up sharply at the drawling sarcasm in his voice and scanned his face for any signs of annoyance or anger. All I saw was a kind of thoughtful reminiscing expression and I turned my attention back to the question.

"No," I admitted ruefully, "I don't. At least, not as much as I'd want to."

"Ah," he said noncommittally. Then he gave me a sly grin, "Don't worry. You ain't alone. Everyone wants to know all 'bout da mystery dat is me."

I rolled my eyes and sighed with exaggerated exasperation. "I repeat what I said before: you are an arrogant prig."

"You're flatterin' me."

"Narcissistic. That's what you are."

He merely smiled.

Then we started further down the street and away from Ray's. Spot reached up with a sleeve to wipe sweat off his forehead and made no sounds of discomfort. I, on the other hand, was desperately fanning myself with my hat. Honestly, could days get any hotter than this?

"I _hate _summer," I spat vehemently, stopping with a huge sigh. Spot stopped with me and I glared at the sun before turning to him. "I have a Question of Major Importance."

Before he could say anything, I plunged on without hesitation, "I've been seeing this guy named Philip Danford and…" I trailed off at the alarmed look on Spot's face and peered at him curiously.

"What?" I asked and then suddenly realized my mistake. "No! I don't, didn't mean it like that!"

His face eased and a satirical smile played at his lips. "Aw, Ace. How could ya."

I scowled. "_No_. I just mean I've seen him around recently. You know. Like see. With eyes."

"But really. With a _Philip Danford _of all people."

I stopped scowling and asked with some confusion, "So you don't know him?"

Spot raised his eyebrows. "No."

"Think hard," I said earnestly. If he had no idea who Philip was, that meant Philip was lying. That would dredge up more questions and I wouldn't be able to answer them. And I knew how much I hated that.

Spot gave me slow, suspicious look and I hid my flinch, though I didn't break his gaze. He obliged me and his eyes darkened in thought. "Philip Danford. Look, his name sounds familiar."

"Yeah?"

"It ain't…," his eyes cleared. "Ah."

I nodded, asking for more information.

"He's a leadah." Spot said it warily, but I didn't notice his hesitating tone because I was too busy being stunned at his words instead.

"Da leadah now in Harlem's," he added coolly and I just stared at him.

"He's Harlem _leader_?"

"Yeah, came in a few months ago," Spot said and I was staggered. "Got da news some time ago from Cat; she heard it though she's nevah seen him."

"He says he's had trouble with you. 'Unpleasant run-ins' were his exact words," I said wryly and then frowned. "I don't get it. Why would he lie to me? And if he's Harlem's leader, wouldn't he have come to the rally?"

"Well, the rally was pretty big. Unless he was lookin' fer ya or you were lookin' for him, you wouldn't have seen him," Spot said acidly and then he narrowed his eyes. "C'mon, what's goin' on."

Goodness, he was of a jealous sort, wasn't he? And _he_ was the one who's supposed to be a two-timer, I thought with some heat, and then realized I was being unfair. I'd probably be distrustful too, if Spot started pumping me for information about a girl.

I shrugged then, trying to keep the mood light. "Nothing much. This guy's just kinda acting odd."

I told him the whole story; about that day when I ran into him, about his sudden interest in me, and about him helping me out with Fire. Spot listened with care, without a single interruption. I felt a swell of appreciation. It was such a little thing, really, but I did like it when people listened to me. Even if it was with that skeptical look on his face.

"So you saw Fire, eh?"

I groaned aloud, nodding. "He is unbelievable. I mean, really, there's something wrong with him."

Spot smirked faintly, but his humor didn't reach his eyes. "Dis…Danford. He hasn't told you what he's doin' in Brooklyn?"

I exhaled sharply. "Nope. That's why I'm so curious about him. In New York people don't just help and be nice to you out of compassion. Do they?"

The smirk grew and he raised his eyebrows, adopting a hurt look. "You're hurtin' me feelings, sugah. Are you sayin' dat I had some sinister motive of lettin' you join us dat day?"

I stared at him in confusion and then realized that once again I had made a verbal blunder. Gah. Curse him and the way he always went off and twisted my words. It was getting tiring. "That," I said flatly, "was not what I wanted to say and you know that."

The eyebrows lowered, though the smirk remained. "Calm down Ace, I was jus' teasin' ya."

"Mm," I said rebelliously, and at an unseen signal we both started walking again.

"So, any news about our infamous Duke?" I asked, changing the subject which might not have been a too good of an idea because I _sensed _more than saw Spot grow tense. He was quiet for a long time.

"No," finally came the acerbic reply. Then a quiet, growl of: "Not yet, at least."

I glanced out of instinct up at Spot, who was staring ahead of him, his gaze not really seeing, but remembering. To my immense surprise, I saw, quite distinctly, a look of dark, heated rage twist his attractive features for a millionth of a second. I quickly looked away and my throat felt dry.

I knew that look. It was the exact same one that had marred Philip's face only about an hour ago. I chewed the inside of my lip thoughtfully and noticed that we had automatically turned out steps towards Brooklyn LH. I chanced another glance at Spot. His face was emotionless again, though traces of…worry? anger? unease?...was tightening his mouth into a slight frown. Just like Philip, except with Philip his face had been completely smoothed out.

They _had _to know each other. The two of them were both lying through their teeth.

Or…

One was telling the truth and the other was the liar.

But _which one?_

And _why? _

A story, I thought delightedly, knowing I shouldn't be feeling so evilly happy. There was a story behind all this. A rivalry between Spot and Philip. Or something like that. Maybe more than _anyone_ knew. Except for them of course.

Now who knew that a life of a Brooklynite would be so horridly complicated? Just how many enemies did the guy (and I was talking about Spot) have? Philip, Swiper, Duke, (now) Jack…and Fire could be added to that list too, I guess.

We walked in silence, both of us engrossed in our own thoughts. Well, at least_ I _was. In fact, I was doing something that I rather liked to do but hated when others did it to me. I was comparing people. And people as in two guys whose names start with a 'P' and a 'S'. My mind happily settled back to sort them out and I thought them over.

They were both ridiculously attractive. Philip had that aristocratic quality that set him several classes higher than the one he was in. Spot was more of a boyish yet streetwise rogue kind of thing, if that made any sense. They both were the kind you pass on the street and you'll look twice, and then go back home, and gush at your friends about.

Well, of the two, I admitted grudgingly, Philip was the better-looking in the physical sense. Charm was just _oozing _out of his every pore that, come to think of it, it was rather sickening. Not to mention he was achingly polite. Nice if you liked that sort of thing, but I doubted I'd ever be able to really _relax _around him if he went off going, "Oh, I see…," and "Ah, how interesting," all the time. Still, he was chivalrous. More of a dream boyfriend than Spot was, I guess. If I had parents, Philip would be the one of the two who'd gain their approval.

Spot (here I shot a look at him again, only to see him still staring ahead of him in thought), on the other hand, was…well, _dark_. Yeah, he cracked jokes and stuff, but there were times when I was caught off guard at the glimpses I saw of his temper. Maybe it'd wear off someday, along with his smugness. After all, he was still eighteen. Despite it all though, I realized happily, I liked his ironic sense of humor, which was backed up with brains. A definite, definite plus for me. Not to mention he had great eyes. And he was a wonderful, wonderful kisser.

"Ashley "Ace" Benette! Yoah hair's _green!_"

I snapped out of it. _Green!_

I turned to Spot with wide-eyes, my hands automatically going up to my head and then I stopped as he gave one of his short, genuine laughs that I was growing, at the risk of sounding like a bad romance novel, addicted to.

"Finally, Ash! I've been tryin' to get yoah attention for da last two minutes. What were you thinkin' da whole time?" Then he paused and smirked. "Actually, I don't want to know."

I gave him an indignant look, though I secretly was embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. "You are sick-minded," I accused, reaching out to swap him. He easily evaded it without even breaking a stride. We both were given 'Aw, young love, how cute,' looks from pedestrians, but I ignored them.

"I repeat what I said befoah," he said, mocking my own words, "You're a hypocrite."

I stuck my tongue out at him and started to swat his shoulder again, though this time I feinted and then used my other arm. He still managed to move away with the grace of a panther. "You and your wretched reflexes," I muttered and was rewarded with another "Short, Genuine Laugh."

"An' here we are," he said with his usual uncalled-for-sarcasm as we turned the corner and saw Brooklyn LH in all its broken-down glory. "Home sweet home."

I felt relieved at the prospect of cooling off and getting out of this sweltering heat. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he matched my quickened steps. I walked up to the door and reached for the broken handle, which you had to turn in a certain way to open it. I glanced back at Spot as I did so, meeting his watching gaze with some curiosity.

"You know Spot, about Philip-ack!"

I was literally bowled over as the door swung abruptly inwards and an unidentified someone smacked right into me. I toppled backwards and right out the door, shrieking in sheer surprise and steeling myself for a painful impact with the ground. Then hard hands caught me under my arms from behind and I opened my shut eyes to peer up at Spot's amused blue, granite eyes. He quickly swung me back up, but before I could speak my thanks, I realized just who had run into me.

Fire closed the door and was indignantly brushing himself off before stiffening at the sight of me and Spot, who also went still. He then stood behind me in a protective manner, which would have been rather sweet if I was in the mood to appreciate it. As it was, I was furious at Fire for practically trying to give me a concussion. Again! (Alright, maybe I was overreacting)

"Fire," Spot _slithered _out the word, oiling it with fake amiability and charm in a way only he could do. "Haven't seen yoah joyful self around for a few days."

Fire's jaw tightened and his eyes snapped down to glare at me. I didn't flinch away at the hatred in his eyes, only because I was so used to it by now. I returned the glare, refusing to back up. He moved away from the door and the three of us stood stiffly at the empty street.

"You owe me an apology," I spat finally. His eyes looked me up and down contemptuously, as though looking at an object unworthy of his attention. Which, naturally, infuriated me further.

"For what?"

"Actually, for lots of things, but right now I'd say for hitting into me like a lumbering elephant."

"_Yoah _da one who got in da way, you little-,"

Spot silently moved to stand next to me, intervening in the growing argument. To my surprise, Fire didn't wilt and turned his glare to him. He drew himself up higher to his full height and gave a marvelous sneer that would have put Oscar Delancey to shame. He looked at me again.

"Well," he mocked, his mouth still distorted with the sneer, "Heaven forbid dat anyone evah harm you. After all," he jerked his chin at Spot, "You've got a _powerful _boyfriend to protect you, right? Can't mess with da Joke of Brooklyn, eh?"

Silence just _poured _across the street and seemed dowse all sounds that were there previously. I Gaped at him. Yes, with a capital G. I never knew Fire had such guts! For once, I was speechless. Spot though, didn't stay quiet for any more than a moment. Apparently, he didn't share my dumbfounded shock. He took a calm, easy step forward and looked at Fire, a trace of a smile brushing his mouth.

"What did you say?" he asked quietly, but still loud in the deafening absence of sounds. "I didn't quite catch dat."

I found my tongue. I didn't react quite as calmly as Spot did. "You…you...," I spluttered, "Are you _implying _that I'm using Spot to protect myself from you?" I stared at him, "You are such a…such a…"

Words failed me. I simply stood there in helpless anger.

Spot grabbed my arm and pulled me to one side. "Don't flatter yourself Ace," he drawled. "No one _uses _me." I shot him a hard look, not amused because this wasn't the time to be cracking jokes. He ignored me and advanced once more at Fire, who stood his ground with that same sneer on his face.

"Well now," Spot murmured, still dangerously quiet, "What do you know. Looks like you finally got da guts t'face me. Duke's been a good influence, eh?" His lips curled back in a wolfish grin that gave him an animalistic look. "Very proud of you, Fire," he taunted viciously.

"Shut up," Fire snarled. Spot chuckled slightly and merely raised an eyebrow.

"But I wouldn't stay too close with Duke. After all," the grin peeled back sharply and his voice became even quieter, if that was possible, "We wouldn't want another repeat of what happened last time, do we?"

Fire's right fist clenched and that was all the warning Spot needed. The blow soared over Spot's head as he ducked and came up with an uppercut that smashed against Fire's jaw so hard that the taller newsie just _collapsed _backwards on to the street. I jumped at the sudden violent action and stumbled back myself with a gasp at just _seeing _the force with which Spot hit Fire. It was as if all the pent-up anger in him against _everyone _he ever hated had just connected with Fire's face.

I realized Spot had been trying to goad Fire into a fight and had just succeeded. Now that I thought of it, I mused distantly, Spot rarely started fights. I had never seen him lose his temper and then fight, though I've seen him fight and then lose his temper. Oscar was an exception. I glanced coldly at Fire, who was groaning and rubbing his jaw on the floor.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the sense to stay down. He picked himself up, spitting blood everywhere. There was a burning rage in his eyes which matched Spot's. He settled that gaze on me, which was also another mistake because Spot grabbed Fire's shirt and roughly dragged him farther away from me. Fire threw him off angrily and Spot moved back a little, not retreating, but putting a little space between the two of them.

"Dis ain't about her," Spot growled, rubbing his fist threateningly; his attitude a complete contrast with his cold calmness a few seconds ago. "I don't forget things easily, even though you seem to, traitor. Dis is about _befoah._"

Fire's eyes showed blatant fear, but though he may be a jerk, he was a Brooklynite, which meant he knew there was no way out. Both his fists curled into balls of hard flesh and he faced Spot, completely shutting me out. "Befoah?" he spat, "You deserved dat," he laughed scornfully. "You're no leadah. Duke was da only one who knew it."

By this time, my curiosity was itching me so badly I barely could keep myself from blurting out wildly, "What happened before!" But I stayed quiet and tugged at my hat.

Spot admirably didn't lunge and start strangling Fire, which would probably be the thing I'd do. Instead, he cocked his head with mock-confusion. "Funny isn't it, dat you kept quiet all dese years?" he tsk-ed sympathetically and Fire bristled, "It really ain't good for ya, keeping in all dose emotions. Can make you sick."

He _is _sick, I thought silently and then winced as Fire suddenly threw himself forward and, with his superior bulk and weight, managed to tackle Spot right down to the ground. I felt incredibly dumb, just standing there. It was as if I was one of those annoying, useless heroines in books and plays who just stare as the protagonist and antagonist have an all-out fight in front of her while she watched and makes unhelpful little cries of shock. Geh. But that was exactly what I was doing. And really, there was nothing else I could do but watch.

So I watched as Spot shifted out from under Fire and pushed him away with a kick across his face. There was a momentary lapse as the two stood up and they both looked rather horrid; Spot with a bruise on his cheek and Fire with a bleeding jaw. Spot feinted with a right hook, which Fire moved to block, and then hit him hard with a left. Fire merely grunted and threw a punch into Spot's stomach, sending him staggering back.

And so they went, exchanging vicious blows. They were both sporting visible injuries now, but of the two, Spot had less. Spot was smaller and more compact, made for speed more than strength, which meant he was quicker at avoiding Fire's blows. The fight abruptly came to a painful end when Spot suddenly sprang forward, grabbed Fire's head by his hair, and drove a knee into his face with a sharp _crack!_ And I didn't even want to think about how much it hurt, because Fire howled, like really, really _howled_. Then fell under the flurry of punches Spot gave him and didn't get up, holding his bloodied face in his hands.

There was a pause as Spot fought to catch his breath; his eyes alight with the thrill the fight gave him as he gazed condescendingly at Fire. The fallen newsie was also silent, his nose probably broken from that knee thing Spot did. Then Spot glanced at me and I raised my eyebrows before grinning.

"…Ouch," I commented happily.

Spot wiped a split lip, looked at me, and, ignoring the pain it must give him, smirked gloriously. Really, how he could look attractive even with a bleeding mouth, a black eye, and a huge bruise on his cheek, I don't know. I moved closer and wiped dirt off his forehead.

"And how do you feel?" I asked playfully, completely ignoring Fire on the floor.

"Wonderful," he murmured, taking my hand and kissing it. "But I think I need a swim," he added.

"Obviously. You positively look like a nightmare."

His eyes glittered. "Not as much as he does," he said, jerking his thumb at the other boy, who was now trying to stand up, glaring daggers at the two of us. Spot stared hard at him with sheer contempt evident on his face. Great, not _another _fight. Couldn't Fire take a hint?

"Let's go," I muttered, tugging at Spot, who was starting to look like he wanted to pound Fire into the ground again. I smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at Fire, who returned it with a snarl on his lips, and Spot, unexpectedly, relaxed at that sight. He turned to me, studied my face, and smiled crookedly. "You are perfectly adorable," he told me with simple honesty.

"Oh." I was rather taken aback.

His mouth quirked upwards. "Don't look so shocked. C'mon, to da docks."

I nodded and forced myself not to look at Fire to see what his expression was like. We only had taken a few steps when Spot stopped suddenly, turned around slowly, and faced Fire with an almost gloating expression set on his face. "Sorry Fire. I almost forgot," he allowed his gaze to stop for a moment on Fire's bleeding nose and smiled with satisfaction as the other boy grew red with embarrassed anger. "Bettah take care of dat nose." He made as if to walk away, and then stopped again. "By da way," he said casually, "Get out of Brooklyn. Don't _evah _set foot in it again. You ain't a Brooklynite anymore."

He dropped the words like a bomb. Fire said nothing, but averted his gaze as a sign of acceptance. Spot nodded and then started off again with me next to him. I glanced over my shoulder at Fire and met his eyes. I was startled to see a flicker of satisfied triumph cross them. _Triumph_? Why _triumph_? I thought in confusion. He smiled at me. Now _that _was one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. I narrowed my eyes and turned back around, fighting the urge to run over and whack that look off his face.

"You know," I said after a while, "The two of you spouted off a lot of stuff I didn't understand back there."

"Mm."

"Stuff about the villain of the story. Dukey."

He snorted, but didn't speak for a while. Then he said darkly, "It's all simple, really."

"Yeah?"

"Dey tried to kill me and Fire chickened out."

He said it so matter-of-factly, but the words seemed so unbelievable in the warm reality of the day that I couldn't keep skepticism from my voice. "_Kill_ you?"

"Dat's right."

"Then…then why didn't you just kick Fire out too, along with Duke on that day?"

He ran a hand through his wet hair. "He ran, remember? I can't go around banishing everyone I suspect out of Brooklyn," he smirked slightly, "No one would be here den."

"Well," I tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. "Well." I said again, this time as a manner of ending the conversation.

"No matter," Spot said smoothly, "It's solved now."

I frowned uneasily and linked arms with Spot absently, ignoring his glance down at me. My problem with Fire was now gone. Finished. Done with. Settled. I should be happy and relieved. I shook my head and sighed. Why wasn't I?

Because, I realized dully, I didn't believe it was over.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, I need feedback on a few questions. Does the pace of the story seem too rushed or is it flowing fairly well? Is Spot (pleeeease be honest) in character or does he seem to change too much? And, most importantly, is Ace turning into a Mary-Sue? It's one of those things I can't really tell by reading by myself so I need your opinions. Thanks!

Oh, and my Ace page has quite a few more pictures. The next chapter or the chapter after that might be the last one for this story, which I'm rather sad about. It ends along with the strike. Naturally, there'll be a sequel.

And wow. 227 reviews. So, so, stunned. :D Thanks so much all!


	20. News From Manhattan

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **Well, I wanted, really wanted, to make this the last chapter, but it sadly didn't turn out that way. The next one, I promise, will be the last. Then the sequel! I'm rather eager to write that one.

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

When Spot sauntered onto the docks, everyone reacted subtly. And when I say 'subtly', I mean subtly. The shifting of eyes, the raised eyebrows, and the curious whispers. But no one jumped up and comically blurted out anything like, "Holy cow, what happened to you!" I suppose that goes to show the respect Spot received. I mean, if I had come in looking like I had been in a major gang fight, they would have laughed their heads off and pressed me for information. As it was, they studiously stayed silent and then asked me urgently what happened. I told them. And I didn't have to even turn around to know that _he_ was looking excessively smug.

Nothing much happened the rest of the day, which I was perfectly fine with. Excitement in the form of fistfights can get rather tiring. A little break was needed and I gladly spent my time just chatting with the girls. The subject of Jack was carefully avoided, because we knew it would it'd simply make the conversation bitter. Spot had his swim, conversed casually with the boys, and for their benefit, gave me Looks which I tried to ignore.

The other thing of interest that happened was when I begged him to teach me how to use a slingshot. The conversation went something like this:

"No, Ace."

"Just until I can hit something with fairly good aim?"

"No. You'd probably give someone a concussion and I get da feeling dat someone'll be me."

"I will not! C'mon, just this once."

"No."

"Pleeeeease."

"_No_."

"Why?"

"You're actin' like a spoiled brat." He was smirking.

"…Alright, how's this: If you do this…I'll…okay, if you do this, you can ask me whenever you need or want me to do something."

A snort. "Y'mean like a favor?"

"Yeah."

Faint curiosity. "Anythin'?"

"Anything…within my guidelines, yes," I added hastily.

He seemed about to say something, but then changed his mind. He looked at me then and I returned the gaze. He was still wet from his swim earlier and his streaked hair was swept back again, making him look downright incredible, but his eyes were cool and calculating. I gave him my best puppy-dog look. He stared at me and then finally sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm givin' in," he muttered darkly, "I must be goin' soft."

I did a little jig of joy and reached for his slingshot in his pocket.

"But you ain't usin' mine," he said quickly, stepping back warily. I rolled my eyes and he called to Pike, who gave his to me and then settled down to watch, a look of high entertainment starting to grow on his face.

"Here," Spot said in a resigned tone, walking closer and reaching over to my hand where I was gripping the slingshot. He adjusted my hold; gently easing my fingers nearer to the top of the handle and loosening my grip. "Relax," he murmured, rubbing my shoulders down with his free hand. "Won't hit anything if you're stiffened up like dat."

I pushed away the sudden flutteriness in my stomach and forced myself to concentrate. And to relax, like he said. Spot glanced at Pike, who agreeably tossed a marble over. Spot caught it easily with one hand and then placed it in the palm of my left. "Fit it in."

Remembering how he had done it before, I followed his example and 'loaded' the slingshot. He scrutinized my position critically and fished out his own slingshot, along with a black, smooth stone. He examined it and then muttered, "Now, watch." He let fly the stone and it cleanly shattered a beer bottle (how many were cluttered around the docks anyway?). He then turned to me and jerked his chin towards the slingshot in my hand. "The bottle next to it. Aim just above the marble and then release."

My marble flew a mile away from said target and I'm not exaggerating.

"Cool," I said with awe.

"Perfect," he groaned, like he was telling himself that this was going to take a long, long, and long time.

The next minutes consisted of stones, pebbles, and marbles alike wildly whizzing everywhere. But heh, it was rather fun. I barely missed Milkshake's head when she poked up from the water, but it was still enjoyable, shooting stuff around. I firmly made a crack on the wooden post where Pike was leaning against. He jumped in shock and then glowered at me, the words 'you-did-that-on-purpose' written all over his face.

"Sorry," I said, not all that apologetically while Spot let out an exasperated sigh.

"Ace, you're hopeless," he declared. "Aim! Don't you have any sense of direction?"

I shot him a dirty look and paused to jab an elbow into his ribs as he was standing directly behind me. I proceeded to aim again at the bottle. Just as I released, he gave me a slight push in return for his rib injury, sending me tottering to my left. I nearly dropped the slingshot in surprise.

"Hey, what-"

_Crash!_

The marble hit the bottle right on.

"Oh."

* * *

The next day I woke up at a frightfully early hour in the morning and was about to fling myself back into bed when I noticed the room was extremely…quiet. I looked around and was startled to find it completely empty. I stared for a moment longer and then leaned back into my bed, feeling curiously lazy. I didn't quite care what everyone was doing. I stretched and yawned, a contented smile creeping up my face as thoughts ran through my head, all of them revolving around one person in particular. I grinned into the hard pillow and closed my eyes,wondering what he was doing now. I rolled over onto my back, still grinning up at the bunk above me.

And nearly jumped right out of my skin as something crashed down to the floor next to me.

"Awake?"

"Artemis!" I squeaked like a rat. She rolled her eyes.

"'Course; who else would it be," she muttered and went to the washroom. I blinked and recovered enough to take offense at her scathing remark.

"Well, _excuse _me for not being Einstein at seven in the morning," I returned with some heat and rolled over.

"We gotta go," she called from the sink where she was furiously scrubbing at her face.

"Wha-?" I moaned sleepily, the blanket wrapped around my head in an effort to block out noise.

"I said, we gotta go," she said sharply and I stripped off the blanket from myself to glower at her.

"Go _where_?"

"Ray's."

"Now?"

"Yes. Now."

"And if I can ask without getting my head bitten off, why?"

She turned around and walked at me. She didn't walk _to _me, she walked _at _me. Well, apparently the argument that had started since that fight with Jackal was still going on and she was still in a horrifying mood. "Because, you moron," she growled, "When Spot gets dere, dere's a strong possibility that he'll bite off two other heads."

I looked at her quizzically. "…hah?"

"At least," she grabbed at her hat, "If you two are as mushy on each other as you seem to be now, you might be da only one he'll listen to."

"What's goin' on? And we are not mushy," I added sharply.

"Something important. Get yourself out of dat bunk. And you _are_ mushy. Disgustingly."

Ugh. This was too early for me to figure Artemis out. I groaned and did what she ordered, feeling groggier than the first time I awoke. "I don't see what could have happened," I muttered rebelliously, "Everything was fine yesterday."

"Yeah, dat's about…what, eight hours ago? Lots can happen in just an hour, so get a move on," she retorted and I gave her a withering look.

"Just overflowing with happiness, aren't we," I said sarcastically and she snorted without replying as she shrugged on a different shirt. She left a few minutes later, muttering irritably under her breath and slamming the door behind her. I didn't really care; she had been like this for the past few days. Absently, I wondered just what happened between her and Jackal, and then told myself to ask her when a good opportunity came. A good opportunity when she wasn't in such a foul mood. And then I remembered what she told me and my curiosity came back in full force.

I quickly tumbled out of bed, took the time to wash my face, made a face at the mirror as usual, and then strode out. The weather wasn't as humid as yesterday, but that was probably because it was still early in the morning. Still, the sun was painfully bright. I winced instinctively and sighed. Lovely. Here I go, off to Ray's, half-asleep and probably looking like a terrifying nightmare. Oh well. As long as everyone didn't run away at the sight of me.

Hmm. What could have happened? Did Duke turn up again? Did someone get hurt? Probably not, I told myself. But it had to be serious or else Artemis wouldn't have practically dragged me out of bed. And how did she know what it was anyway? Did she come all the way to wake me up? That was unlikely too. Probably the girls had left only minutes before I awoke and she and I were the late ones. Maybe one of the boys called us or something. What did she mean about the two heads Spot'll 'bite' off?

I walked faster, my mind wandering away from the present as I mused over the possibilities. I wasn't really worried though, just interested. But when I drew near Ray's, I knew immediately that something was wrong. At least, something was _off_. The usual noise surrounding the restaurant was gone. I looked through the large, dirty windows and saw that Jackal, Pike, and Pithon were staring hard at something I couldn't see. The looks on their faces were tense enough to tell me that something as _definitely _wrong. I opened the door quickly and entered, albeit a bit noisily. Everyone turned to glower at me, but I was too busy being surprised at the object of their apparent animosity.

"Race! Blink!"

"Hey, Ace," Race told me, an easy-going grin slipping over his face automatically, but his eyes had taunt lines etched around them. A similar grin flashed across Kid Blink's face, but his blue eyes – ahm, blue eye – displayed nervousness. I frowned and glanced around to see them glaring at _me _now. What did _I _do? I moved nervously and looked at the two Manhattanners.

"What's going on?" I asked Blink, who shifted and looked at me uneasily, as though preparing himself for my reaction.

"Jack's back," he said simply, "What we saw da day before yesterday…it wasn't true."

A moment of silence ticked by. "He's…what? What do you mean? Back in the strike again?" I asked, unable to keep disbelief and skepticism from my voice. Blink winced, as though knowing his words were extremely hard to believe, but he nodded. It _was_ hard to believe. But it…Jack? I didn't quite know what to think. My mind's eye saw again the tall Manhattan leader, dressed in that immaculate suit, bearing the derisive insults everyone had thrown at him. I remembered again the flash of tortured anger in Spot's expression, the hurt betrayal on the Manhattaners'. I also remembered how some, including I, actually, had tried to defend Jack and make excuses for him, though I had done it because I wanted to pick a fight with Pithon. I bit my lip and stared at Blink and Race's earnest faces. Would they lie? No, the answer came automatically and I frowned, trying to find the reasons for that answer. My thoughts though, kept wandering and going back to foolish 'what ifs.'

For example…won't it be…oh, well, _amazing_ if it was somehow, actually true? It'll all be alright again between Jack and Spot, wouldn't it, with Jack back?

"Oh, sure," Pike snarled from behind me suddenly, as though he had read my mind. His eyes narrowed with anger at Kid Blink, "He suddenly got all repentant, did he?"

"Kinda hard to believe, you know? Considering he put on a pretty convincin' show dat day," joined Pilot with biting sarcasm and both Race and Kid Blink visibly bristled. I eased myself over to sit down at a table, successfully inconspicuously moving myself from spotlight. I watched carefully as Kid quickly hid his emotions so as to appear calm again, but Race's shoulders didn't relax. He clenched his fists, took a step forward towards Pike and Pilot and stopped.

"Look here," he gritted out tersely, looking like his temper was reaching breaking point. I realized then that this argument must have been going on for some time. "I jus' know dat Jack didn't turn traitor. Can't you see dat from da pape we gave you?"

I noticed for the first time that Pike had a piece of paper. The corner of it was scrunched up in his clenched right fist. He sneered and crumpled it completely into a ball. I could just feel the atmosphere growing even darker as Pike snorted, "What you Manhattaners wrote was _pathetic_. A bunch of worthless lies." He threw the paper onto the floor and sneered.

Race and Kid Blink went very, very still. I could tell Kid Blink was desperately trying to gain control over himself, but Race didn't seem like he was even trying, because his usually quick and mobile face grew all 'pinched.'

"What do y'mean by dat, Pike? Y'callin' us liars? Y'calling _me _a liar?" he snapped, his voice thinner and his accent thicker than usual. I watched warily, noting how extremely tense his whole body was. I never thought Race to be the fighting type, but maybe I thought wrong. Pike's sneer merely grew and I inwardly groaned.

"Smart, Race, very smart," he said with mock-surprise. "Why doncha just run along and go tell it to da others now."

Race looked like he was going to explode. Then something just sort of…_clicked_. It was almost funny. He suddenly became the picture of confidence, not quite the self-satisfied look Spot always had, but it was close. Healthy color returned to his face, and that cocky, daredevil grin returned to his face. The only thing that showed that he was upset was his eyes, which were still hard. "Tell da rest? Nah, I couldn't bear to do _dat_. Dey'll be evah so disappointed in you."

I frowned, trying to figure this out. Race was way ahead of me here. I don't think Pike didn't get it either, because he glared suspiciously at Race. "What do you mean?"

Race shrugged nonchalantly. "Just sad to see dat da Brooklynites are bailin' out so quickly. Ah well. People can get…pressured sometimes."

There was a pause as Pike mulled this over, his attractive features darkening with confusion. I tried not to laugh as I finally saw where this was going. I was mildly impressed. Race was incredibly gifted…gifted at the art of hints and innuendos. Exceptionally good with words, is what I'm trying to say.

Just as Race wanted him to, Pike asked harshly, "Are you callin' me a coward?"

Race chewed his lip and appeared to be thinking deeply.

"Are ya?"

Boys and their idiotic pride.

Smug triumph leaked out into Race's expression as he replied, struggling to keep a straight face, "Smart, Pike, very smart. Why doncha just run along and go tell it to da others now."

Pike's face turned red as he realized Race was repeating his own words. Although I was amused, I felt rather put out. _I _didn't tell him anything. _I _wasn't a coward. He could have said like 'Go tell the others except for Ace, because she's brilliant and kind.' Well, maybe that's a trite unrealistic. I glanced around and saw everyone's glares had stiffened into something more…menacing. Kid Blink looked as though he was going to die. Meanwhile, those who had been sitting slowly got to their feet, except me of course. Race maintained his insolent air, but he seemed to slowly realize what he had just said, because his eyes widened ever so slightly and then moved around quickly assess the situation.

At length, Pike then turned into a Spot clone. What I mean by that, is that he smirked. "Dat famous tongue of yours can get ya into trouble, you know." I suppose that's what happens when you're his best friend. Pike becoming a Spot clone, that is. One picks up those little habits. I hope I don't suddenly go around smirking endlessly someday and making vague remarks.

The shorter newsie replied quickly with a, "Aw, Pike, didn't know you cared," and then sort of winced at his own words. Kid Blink looked definitely nervous now, but he pasted a tight smile on his face and said uncomfortably, "We came to tell ya we need your support again. So, since we're done, we'll jus' leave." He glanced at uneasy-but-not-showing-it Race and said again, "We'll jus' _leave_." He tried to get Race's attention, making little coughing noises and trying to make signs with his eyes to tell him to not say another word.

"Oh no, you don't," said Pilot, backing Pike up. He moved to block the door. He was angry, I could tell from the way his usual stoic demeanor was gone. "You ain't leavin' so soon. Spot'll be here, why not jus' wait?"

As if on cue, the door opened quietly right then and there. Pilot moved aside. It was almost freaky, really. I half-turned in my chair and saw Spot standing in the doorway. Not with his customary smirk though; his mouth was pressed into a thin line and his eyes stared at Race and Kid Blink with frightening intensity. Uh oh. Not good. He was definitely not happy. I willed him to look at me, but his gaze was fixed on the Manhattaners.

"What," he asked icily, "are you two doing here?"

Race looked at me with somewhat begging, chocolate brown eyes. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was asking for my help and gave in, getting ready to play the part of the girl-who-smooths-down-ruffled-male-tempers-with-motherly-nuturing-care (HAH!). I knew I had to intervene before he ended up tearing Race and Kid Blink apart with his bare hands. I turned and gave my brightest smile at Spot. He looked at me then and seemed a little startled at my sudden friendliness, but the corner of his mouth eased upward quickly in return.

"They just brought news that Jack's back in the game," I said, trying to keep the mood light. I shot a look at Race, who nodded slightly, encouraging me on. I rolled my eyes again. "They want us to help out again." I searched for more words, but that was all _I _knew about this news. I shrugged. "What do you think?"

Spot stared at me and then his steely eyes flicked back up to Race and Kid Blink. Kid Blink looked like he was saying his last good-byes to this world. Race was running a tongue over his crooked tooth, obviously trying to think of how to talk his way out of this. I glanced back at Spot again to find that he had turned white. I mean, really, he turned completely pale, but not out of fear or anything like that. Blood had drained from his face from livid anger. It was actually a bit frightening. Everyone was watching him now and I silently hoped he wouldn't do anything horrid to the two. So much for keeping the mood light.

"Hey Spot, da thing is, you see," Race started with forced casualness, but Spot interrupted him.

"Out," he hissed with chilling calm. His eyes flashed once, "_Now_."

Pilot looked reluctant, as though wanting the fight that had been sure to come, but he shifted away from the door. The two Manhattaners didn't argue. Race looked at me again as though saying "Oh well, thanks for trying" before he followed Kid Blink quickly to the door. He apparently couldn't resist flashing a cheeky smile at Pilot and Pike, who stiffened, and then he was hastily out the door. I couldn't help grinning to myself.

"What're you smilin' 'bout?" Pithon snapped at me darkly and I forced my grin away, knowing she'd somehow take it as a personal offense.

"Nothin'," I replied as neutrally as possible. Then I noticed that Pike was heatedly explaining what had happened to tight-lipped Spot, who had regained some color and was listening stonily. Pilot gave little comments like, "Yeah," and, "Huh!'

"Only Manhattaners would have da…da…_nerve_! To actually come here after what happened!"

Pike, I mused thoughtfully, sounded like a sputtering sissy. It was kind of funny. So that's how good-looking guys like Pike act like when they lose their tempers. They turn all feminine. I propped my face up with an elbow and listened to him rant and rave to Spot.

"So dey come in, cool and pleasant as you please, and hand me _dat_," Pike thrust a finger at the poor crumpled ball of paper on the floor, "For proof, he says!" I expected him to point that finger up to the ceiling dramatically, but unfortunately he didn't, "Proof against what? Dat Jack suddenly had a change of heart?"

All he needed now was a "Bah!"…

"And you know, dey called us cowards for not believing dem? I was gonna soak dem so bad dey'll only have da strength to crawl outta here!"

"Yeah," Pilot said.

Spot had finally relaxed and was now rolling his eyes at Pike's outrage. "Calm down, Pike. You'll burst a vein on your ugly big head."

Pike stopped in surprise and then said sullenly, "Fine. Whatever. We didn't finish eating."

Talk about changing the subject. But this was obviously very necessary, because I could tell everyone wanted to get their minds off the Manhattaners' sudden visit. I wanted to say something controversial, but I knew they wouldn't listen to me now, not at this current moment. Not to mention I would need a considerable amount of courage and tact; I'd probably mess things up big time and end up somehow getting thrown out for disloyalty or something just as bad. The best thing to do, I decided, would be to find Spot later and bring the subject up as casually as possible. I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought that at least part of Race and Blink's words were sincere. They wouldn't lie. Why not? I knew the answer to that now and some of the others – maybe Cat…or Jackal? He had a thoughtful expression on his face – had to have considered it too. The reasons were, after all, pretty simple: Why would they bother lying? Why would they bother coming all the way here and risk getting soaked within an inch of their lives if not telling the truth? I couldn't find any loopholes through that. Race and Blink weren't all that idiotic; they wouldn't do anything this stupid for no reason whatsoever. Yep, no loopholes.

But then again, Spot wasn't idiotic either. He must have wondered about the whole 'lying' bit too and figured it out. After all, he knew Race and Blink better than I did. Maybe _he _found some loopholes. Maybe that was why he got all angry. Either way, I wanted to talk to him again and make him hear me out. Then I'll hear him out. Isn't that fair?

Surely he wouldn't throw me out for disloyalty.

Hopefully.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm not that happy with this chapter, but oh well, it was needed. The next one will be, as I said, the last. Ace'll try to convince Spot to take the Brooklynites to Manhattan and such. Thank you as always for the many reviews! Hopefully you liked this chappie as well. ;)


	21. Realizing The Truth

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **You know what. I've decided to never make predictions about my stories, at least in public. I'm not one of those 'plan-by-chapters' authors. I rather admire them. How _can_ they stick to schedules like that? Mine just changes, twists, and turns along the way and I'm not really sure if that's a good thing.

Anyway. I'm desolated. This chapter's not gonna be the last! Oh well.

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

Spot was, I realized, quite interesting if you watched him long enough. I never had the courage to before as I was too scared that he'd look at me whilst my staring and make a scathing remark or something. But now that I was growing comfortable around him and was getting to know how to see past that drawling, sarcastic wall he always had, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't all that outwardly bland and stone-faced as I previously thought he was.

Well, what I mean is, he wasn't _completely _unreadable if watched carefully.

And I watched him carefully while I sat there, but at the same time trying not to look it. Like the rest of the Brooklynites, he didn't seem happy with what had just happened. But there was something different from him and everyone's indignant anger. I tried to put a finger on just what it was, but I couldn't exactly.

He wasn't paying much attention anymore to the talk rippling through the newsies. Little signs betrayed his restlessness: the way his gaze wandered away from the talker's, the way he glanced at the door and then frown so faintly that I wondered whether I really saw it or not, the way his eyes darkened, hardened, and then darkened again. I suppose if I wasn't watching as closely as I was, I never would have noticed. Could it be that he was actually regretting his decision about the Manhattaners?

His head suddenly whipped around and he probably heard my sharp intake of breath as his eyes fairly crashed against mine from across the room. I struggled to keep my expressions under control, but it was no use; Spot was quite aware of the effect he had just had on me, because his eyes – in this dim light, they were a deep, divine color of pale blue - gleamed with laughter. Some things just never change, do they?

The others continued their conversation and I couldn't tear my gaze away. I was genuinely surprised at his sensitivity to my observing him, but I suppose I should have expected it. Carefully and meaningfully, I gestured with my eyes to the door. That evaluating gaze twinkled again before he gave a barely perceptible nod and his lips pressed together into a cabalistic smile, again scarcely observable. I wondered at that smile, but I shook off my thoughts and stood up quietly from my chair.

The way to the door was clear and was only a couple of steps away. I warily took those steps as inconspicuously as I could and was able to slip out without gaining too much attention. The heat hit me, hard, and I recited through my usual complaints in my mind against the terribleness of summer. Then the door behind me swung open, then closed.

Before I could turn though, I felt a hand slide down my arm to grasp my own affectionately and a voice murmured in a soft, amused tone, "I know I'm irresistibly charming, but all dat ogling can make a guy nervous, Ashley."

I was silent for a moment – I was actually feeling a bit light-headed – and then pretended to choke. Still not facing him, I gave a rather cruel snicker. "You? Irresistibly charming? And _nervous_? That's definitely the joke of the century." But so that he'd know I meant no real nastiness in my words, I gave his hand a warm squeeze.

He moved in front of me, still holding my hand, and then lifted it to his lips. I started to grin, then for one startling moment, I was back in the alley with Philip, blushing at the intimate gesture. I stared at the momentarily bowed blonde-streaked head, seeing instead a much, much darker hue...the color of pitch black…almost like Danford's…

Spot then drew up to his full height and I blinked. "I'm desolated," he declared theatrically. He tilted his up his chin and then smirked down at me. "An' who gave you permission to call me 'Conlon'?"

I blinked again.

Woah now. Did I just _hallucinate_?

I worked my mouth open and then shut, before I returned the look. "And how do you get off calling me 'Ashley'?" I retorted finally and was rewarded with a sharp grin that split across his face. "I told you I hated that name!" Then I grinned back and he let go of my hand, which I promptly used to poke him in the shoulder. "I want to talk to you about somethin' important." I was going for that light mood again, because I didn't want him to start getting prickly, because it was going to be prickly topic.

There must have been something in my voice or tone though, because that grin disappeared. He caught my finger before I could poke him again.

"Talk?"

"Aren't I allowed to talk? Or do you want me to just sit, stare, and be silent?"

He quirked an eyebrow and smirked again, before releasing my finger. "A silent Ace. Dat'll be da day."

We walked, he in his usual long, loose strides and I in my usual quick, short ones. "Let me guess," he drawled, just a bit coldly, "Dis is about Race and Blink, isn't it?"

I wasn't surprised that he had figured it out. I nodded firmly. "Yeah. What did you think? And," I added after taking a breath for courage, "I mean what did you truly, honestly think? I don't want your leaderly opinion or that show you put on for Pilot and Pike. But truly."

A surprised silence followed and he stopped. I looked up to see him staring at me, an unreadable expression on his face. It was as though he wasn't sure whether to be furious or astonished or admiring. He turned away then, focusing his stare ahead of him to some object visible only to him. He seemed to be dissecting what I had just said, picking them apart and seeking my meaning. Then his face – at least the side I could see - sort of blanded into his mask, that expressionless mask that made me groan inside. If it was a physical object, I'd rip it off; I hated it that much. He turned back around and eyed me.

"I," he started slowly, "don't think I understand what you meant by…'show.'"

It was my turn to stare at him. Oh. I had actually used that word. Oops.

"Well…it's true, isn't it? I mean," I rubbed my forehead and tucked a loose strand of hair back into my hat, "It…it doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"If they lied!"

He raised his eyebrows in response and I forced back a frown at his…his…_placidness._ I chewed at my lip and abruptly began walking again. He easily caught up with me, but somehow without seeming to actually _follow_, making it seem like it was from his own will, not mine. I could imagine his face: eyes narrowed with humor, a smirk teasing his lips upward, and eyebrows still raised. I scowled. I did like him – a lot, I admit I had the hugest crush now -, but sometimes he could be infuriating.

Spot hated Jack's guts; I had to pick my way carefully if I was going to change his mind. He was smart – goodness, I _knew _that – and would probably reason circles around me, but I was sure abandoning the Manhattaners would be a mistake. I know, Spot making a mistake sounds unbelievable, but he wasn't perfect. He had a castle-sized grudge against Jack Kelly, I was sure of it, and that was blocking his usually perceptive instincts. At least, that's what I thought.

Now how to phrase my argument? How to have him hear me out without stalking off or throwing my words back into my face?

Then I didn't have any time to think, because he took my arm to force me around to face him. I did so reluctantly and quickly scanned his face for any clues to his thoughts. It was expressionless again, but his stare betrayed the slightest hint of apprehension. Then I realized he was doing the whole scanning thing to me too, because after another second, the lines around his mouth tightened. Another beat…then a muttered, "Are you tellin' me-"

"Look, Spot-"

"Are you tellin' me you _believed_ dem?"

I couldn't help but flinch at the unforgiving hardness in his voice. He quickly released my arm when he saw that and looked a little repentant, which secretly pleased me. Then I shrugged. "Yes," I said shortly, "I do believe them." I crossed my arms. "You do, too," I added boldly, fighting to keep my tone diplomatic, reasonable.

His eyebrows shot upwards at that and he didn't hide his surprise…or was it surprise? Then he half-smiled, slowly, the kind I could never not feel all queasy inside unless I looked away. Which I did, and hastily too.

"Did you know," he started, his tone gone from that quick, genuine regret to a lazy, carelessness, "dat while you were ogling me –"

"I was _not_ ogling."

"Mmhm, while you were ogling me, did you know dat I was ah, observin' you too? You noticed dat?"

I paused (I was, admittedly, startled, because I _didn't _notice it) and then said smugly, "Ogling. You were ogling me. Hah."

He laughed aloud, quickly. "I knew you'd say dat," he remarked sardonically, his lips curling back into an obscure sneer as they always did whenever he was being acidic. "But as I was sayin', I was watchin' you thinking it all through. It was all entertainin'. Da way your nose kept wrinklin' up and you just starin' at me."

"Well," I said dryly, "Glad to be of service." How on earth did he manage not looking at me once, yet somehow watch me watching him? I certainly hadn't seen him staring my way. I then eyed him suspiciously. "Wait, are you trying to change the subject?"

"Yes," he answered, with almost frightening ease. "Because, you're tryin' to convince me to help da Manhattaners out."

"I…yeah. I do." I frowned, unnerved at how he had cut short the argument I had been planning in my head. "You have to have figured out that they'd have no reason for lying."

His previous humor slipped away and he looked at me coolly. "Tell me somethin' den, Ace. What about Jack? What was dat all 'bout?"

"Jack?" I asked, knowing fully well the answer.

"You forgot?" he said sarcastically, "Traitor. Scab. Sell-out. Liar," he raised his eyebrows disdainfully, "Take your pick."

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know why he did that, but…"

Alright, this I didn't expect.

"Well, apparently it doesn't matter," I said lamely.

"Apparently?" he spat, fully angered now. He didn't raise his voice at all; it just grew stronger, "_Apparently?_ That's just not good enough, Ace. He sold us out, you know dat, don't you?"

I shot him an irritated look, not appreciating the return of his acerbic tone. "I know that; of course I do. What I want to say is…," I fished for words, "Well, aren't the other Manhattaners your friends too?"

"What?"

Hah! I caught him off guard. I was immensely pleased.

"Race, Kid Blink, Skittery…," I gave him a pointed look, "Aren't they your friends too? Other than Jack?"

"Amazin' deduction," he finally drawled, but he showed no humor in his expression. Then he started walking again, at an easy pace. I kept up, feeling a faint spark of annoyance at his refusal to really listen to me. It seemed he was just brushing all my protests away with sarcasm and…more sarcasm. It was silent again, but I could tell he was deep in thought, because he glanced at me surreptitiously once. Just once.

We reached the docks and plunked ourselves (well, Spot more like 'lowered' himself) onto the wooden platform. I turned to him, determined to change his mind.

"You're gonna let Jack let you let the others down?"

He definitely looked amused now. "You just don't give up, don't you? No, I don't _let _people '_let_' me. And anyway, dis isn't going to work out. Da strike. Everyone's had a bad scare; it'll take a whole lot more of convincin' from dem Manhattaners to get us all together like dey did in da rally."

Well, that made sense. But he was getting it all wrong. I searched again for the right words.

"Look, Spot, what would you do if the strike doesn't pull out _because _you didn't join? Huh? Tell me that. Or if-," I was cut off as he turned to face me suddenly. He gave me a flat – really, terribly flat – stare.

"Ace.Yoah concern is really touchin', but da truth is, dey could go shoot their heads off if dey want, going after Pulitzer, and honestly, sugah, I couldn't care less," he deadpanned and then turned back around to gaze calmly across the water.

Well.

Well!

"That's not true," I said heatedly. "You _know_ that's not true."

He didn't answer. It wasn't as if he was silent in thought or contemplating over my words; he just didn't reply.

"You do care 'bout them. You're just too proud to admit it."

Silence again. I was losing him.

"If you ignore them now, _you_ might as well be a traitor too," I said, hoping to sting him into action.

He sprang to his feet so quickly that I nearly toppled off into the water in surprise. Sting him into action was right. He was coiled, tightened, and I didn't want to know what would happen if he snapped. It was such a dramatic change that I automatically got to my feet as well, slowly as though to an highly unpredictable stallion. His jaw clenched as he stared hard at me.

"Ace," he ground out, "You've been so into changin' my mind. You've been all for da cause of dem Manhattaners."

I didn't say anything.

"You claim dat I still like da boys over dere, even if Jack…" he tightened his lips and focused on a point just above my right ear, as though fighting for control. Then he shook his head slightly and brought his eyes back to mine. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. But don't you _dare _put me in da same category as him. I was never a traitor, not once in my life, and no one's ever called me one. So don't go dere."

If he was trying to be threatening, it was working. But it was understandable. I _had_ gone just a bit too far.

"And I need one more thing clear from you before you go off being all righteous," he continued. "I want to know one thing."

He drew closer and I refused to back down, crossing my arms. "What is it?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice now cooled to perfection.

"Why what?"

"Why do _you _care?" He idly reached over with his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair over behind my ear. I suppressed a shiver and held still. "Why are you so desperate to change my mind and help da Manhattaners out?"

There are certain times when a change of mood is needed. This was one of those times. I cocked my head and said with all the seriousness I could muster, "I'm madly, passionately in love with Skittery."

He blinked, just once, startled.

"Skittery?"

"Yes. And Racetrack serenades me every night."

He blinked again. Then he abruptly laughed that delightfully _real_ laugh as he realized I was just messing around. I grinned widely. I loved it. I just loved it when I caught him off guard and made him laugh aloud. No masks, no carefully calculated responds; he was being completely open for that one second. He wasn't howling or giggling or anything like that, mind you. Heh. That'd be incredibly frightening. A giggling Spot.

Ahm…okay.

He was still snickering, apparently finding the mental image my words brought up hilarious. "Race? _Serenading_ you?"

"Yep. He sings 'Hello! My Baby' and he's quite good at it too."

That set him off into another spout of surprised laughter, but he quickly gained control and settled down, shaking his head again. "An' _you_ get mad when I change da subject," he muttered, and then mellowed slightly. "C'mon. Back to da question. Why."

I sighed. "You won't like the answer."

"Probably not," he agreed.

"I'm for helping them because, well…alright, I'm probably going to start rambling. Brace yourself."

"Already braced, darlin'," he said dryly.

"Okay. Point one: We both know Race and Kid Blink are telling the truth. It's absolutely illogical that they'd lie, 'cos there aren't any possible reasons. Also, they practically risked getting lynched by coming here. Unless they were completely off their rockers, which they weren't. Hopefully."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards and I smirked back, before continuing, "They wouldn't do that just to trick us into getting into the strike again. It's just not logical."

He looked at me with a small amount of respect. "You've thought dis through and through, haven't you?"

"Well, if I'm gonna convince you, I've gotta."

"Ever thought of becomin' a lawyer?"

I gave him a withering look. "No. Point Two: We don't know understand what Jack was doing or what he meant to accomplish that day. I don't think Race or Blink or the rest knew or knows because if they did, I'm sure they'd tell us. It'd help with their argument. For this little problem, I think," I took a deep breath and looked straight at him, "I think you should ask Jack. Directly."

He stared at me. Not in surprise this time, just gave me a penetrating stare. The grey-blue eyes now decidedly more towards cool grey from where I was standing. Then they flickered as he realized I was being dead serious. "You want me to talk," he said disbelievingly, "To Jack."

"Yeah. Meet up with him in neutral territory. Not Brooklyn, definitely. Not Manhattan. How 'bout on the Brooklyn Bridge? That's neutral, isn't it? Send Cat to tell him or somethin'. That should work out."

"The Bridge is ours. It ain't neutral," he corrected automatically and then drew back in alarm, "Woah, wait. I never said I was gonna talk to him. Never said a word 'bout it."

I just smiled. He was silent for one moment and then his lips quirked, "Well, Ace. I never knew you were so devious."

I socked him in the arm lightly and smirked back. "I'm hangin' 'round you, that's why. Bad influence. See, I can even do da accent poifectly. Youse got such a New Yooork accent."

I got another laugh, because my imitation was really horrible. His humor seemed to be short-lived though, because the smile quickly faded away. I fell silent, knowing the conversation was coming to a close. He, on the other hand, started frowning quite soon. I didn't like it when he frowned. It looked so pinched. I suppose he really hadn't liked what I said.

I stood as high as I could and planted my lips on his in a sort of "Sorry, but-I-_had_-to-tell you" manner, hoping to chase that frown away. I started to pull back after a moment, but he wasn't about to let it go at that. He quickly had me completely immersed in the kiss and it was glorious, but we both managed to come back down to earth after one trip to the moon.

"Alright," I said finally, flashing him a quick smile. I was glad he wasn't frowning, but I did feel rather sorry for him. I didn't envy what he was going to go through the next few minutes. "I think I've had my say. You'll think about it, won't you? Clear this whole thing up about Jack, I mean?"

He eyed me. "Devious," he informed me, "Definitely devious."

I walked away laughing.

* * *

Spot absently spun a smooth-faced stone into the air with a casual flick of his hand and caught it automatically as it came down fast. To any casual observer, he would simply seem like a bored young man lazing his days away. But a closer look would reveal the frown around his mouth, the intensity of his eyes deep in thought, and the, obviously, restless hands.

He could have cursed and kissed Ace from one end of the world to the other. Talk to Jack. He scoffed and spun the stone up again. Meet Jack and have him explain the situation. All very fine for her to suggest maybe, but it wasn't as simple as she made it out to be. It was hard on _him_. He had no intentions of talking or meeting with Jack. He would be happy to be miles and miles away from Manhattan, but for now, Brooklyn would have to do.

There was always something about traitors that sent his emotions reeling back. He hated it because it was a weakness. That was why he gave his trust warily and with care. He had never trusted Fire. Still, there were times when betrayal hit you hard, unexpectedly. It couldn't be helped. Duke. Cowboy. He chuckled bitterly. _That _he hadn't seen coming.

But…something just didn't fit with Jack's story.

Ace was right. Completely correct. Which meant that he was wrong, but he tried not to think about that. He couldn't believe it; she had practically outsmarted him at his own game. Definitely bad influence on his part, he thought wryly and then half-smiled to himself. Nice. That hadn't happened to his other girls. Just proves how different she was from them…better.

He abruptly growled and flicked hair away from his eyes. There had to be another way around this. He did notlike the idea of talking to Jack at all. Yet the thought of never knowing what had happened exactly made him so uncomfortable that it irritated him. _Did _Jack mean to turn traitor? Were Race and Blink acting on their own? Then why? Or was there another story behind it?

Questions, questions. None to which he had an answer to.

Unless he talked to Jack.

He threw the rock far across the water in a rare display of temper, knowing it didn't matter because none of his boys (or girls) were around.

Since when did the strike start to lead up to something so personal? Was it really worth all this? Sure, Pulitzer and his gang were pushing their authority, raising the price, but he knew he and the rest could cope with it. They had coped with far more troubles before. He took a deep breath as he felt another surge of anger. Then the strike was, he told himself, more of the Manhattaners' problem than theirs. After all, they were the ones who couldn't handle the pressure. Nothing to do with them if it all fell through.

A beat passed.

He was being petty, he sighed. The thing was…the strike may be the Manhattaners' problem, but he and the others were already involved. It was fairly impossible to forget that fact. They weren't completely out of the strike yet, because the strike wasn't over.

_It's blown up into somethin' big_, he thought darkly with an equally dark scowl. It was way over his head now, he admitted. Nothing he could do about it. He could his distance, wait for the strike to die its inevitable, miserable death, and then have doubts about 'if he had helped…' bugging him for basically the rest of his life. Or, he could swallow his pride like Ace said (wonderful…), get to Manhattan and back into the strike. After talking to Jack, of course.

_Of course._

For a long moment, he gripped the rough wood under him. Closing his eyes, he gripped harder, hating his indecisiveness. Why did Ace had to come prodding anyway? She _knew _it would be a tough decision. Then Jack; why did he do what he did? If that was all an act, why didn't he explain to the Manhattaners? Ace was right; Race and Kid Blink certainly had not known Jack's reasons. He shifted his position and leaned back on his hands.

There really was not much of a choice.

Suddenly, he swore aloud and ripped his hands away from the deck floor. He glared at the small but sharp silver of wood embedded in his palm and brusquely pulled it free without a wince. _Dat would be Ace, tellin' me to get a move on._ He snorted and pulled himself up to his feet, careful to keep from placing his right hand flat down on the ground.

When he straightened, he nearly yelled in surprise when he found Cat standing calmly right in front of him. Naturally, his instincts kicked in and he instantly stayed silent and still. Just a little tense and more than a little annoyed at the fact that Cat had crept up on him without him noticing, he quickly gained control over himself.

"What do you want?" he asked sharply as he realized she was waiting for him to speak. Instead of being startled, Cat merely looked at him curiously with almond-shaped, grey eyes.

"You wanted me," she stated more than asked in that quiet but clear voice of hers. She adjusted the black bands around her wrists; they had begun to loosen.

"Care to explain," he said dryly, eyeing her.

"That girl, Ace, she said you needed...," she stopped as Spot gave a sudden snort. A mild trace of annoyance appeared on her face. "Ah. You didn't and don't."

Spot couldn't help that snort. Ace certainly was getting good; she had already sent Cat to him. "No. I want you to do somethin' for me."

"What is it?"

"Get to Manhattan," he said, ignoring the blatantly surprised look on her face, "Find Jack," surprise turned to astonishment, "Tell him to meet me," astonishment to shock, "At da usual place; neutral territory in front of Brooklyn Bridge. Half an hour from now."

It was almost worth the decision to see Cat's face all torn up like that he thought with amusement. Almost.

Cat was silent for only a moment longer than necessary, but Spot wasn't worried. She had never questioned him before in other errands and he was confident she wouldn't start now. To his surprise, she unexpectedly smiled, a proud sort of smile that spokes volumes. Then her face slipped back into its emotionless state (she was almost as good as he was at that, he thought with a smirk) and gave a quick nod of understanding before leaving.

He sighed and glanced at his injured hand, automatically noticing that the bleeding had already stopped. He ran his free hand through his hair and then smoothed it down. Well. He had better get going. Time to meet Jack.

* * *

I was sweating like crazy. Even at this slow pace at which I was walking, the humidity was getting to me. And I was walking aimlessly too, not really wanting to go back to Ray's or to the House. Summer was horrible. But I've already said that before.

All that bluffing I did kinda wore me out. I was pretty confident that he'd agree with what I said so I took the liberty of talking to Cat. She had given me a suspicious look, but had gone to the docks and Spot either way, so that was all good. Hopefully, Spot would take it as a big _hint-hint_. I was actually very proud of myself. Persuading Spot was as hard as persuading a half-starved tiger with a personality of a mule from a meal. A tiger-mule. Hmm.

Alright, so I was distracted. I was _tired_.

So you understand why I was completely unprepared when I felt someone grab my wrist with bruising force and yank me into the alley I was passing by. It was all so sudden that I didn't even have time to shriek, but a rough hand covered my mouth anyway. I couldn't see who it was at first, because I was all winded and trying to catch my breath. Then I looked up and found myself staring into Fire's angry dark eyes.

Is it just me or has he been making sudden appearances a lot recently? Maybe he was stalking me. No, not _that _kind of stalking. Like evil, when-can-I-catch-her-off-guard-so-I-can-drop-a-brick-on-her stalking.

And wait, what was he doing _here_?

I pushed away his hand over my mouth away and glared right back at him. "What the blazes do you think you're doing? Aren't you supposed to be out of here?" I snapped and then stilled when he pushed me against the wall to lean in. His face – especially his nose – looked swollen from yesterday's fight and he looks downright horrible, but he didn't seem to be showing any signs of pain.

"Stop worryin', I'm on my way. But just wanted to tell ya," he tightened his grip viciously and I hated myself for wincing, "You're going to regret dis," he snarled into my face, "You're gonna regret all of it."

I was starting to wonder how much a wrist could take before it was broken. "Fire," I said coldly when he was through, "You'd better let me go. Now."

He sneered at me. "Or what? You'll go cryin' your eyes out to dear Spot?"

I sneered right back, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He couldn't think of an immediate good answer to that one, because he had expected me to protest instead of agreeing. I said nonchalantly, "Because you know, if you hurt me, Spot'll come right after you. Besides," I added, "I never cry."

Another bluff.

He scoffed, "You're a girl."

I smiled sweetly. "And you're an over-sized wart."

He glared and released my arm. "It ain't no empty threat. You'll get yours, Ace. Enjoy yourself while you can, 'cos it'll be only a short time."

"Whatever you say, _moron_. I'm not scared of you and I won't ever be, 'cos you're merely a pathetic bully," I returned boredly, dropping the sugar-coated sweetness. I knew fully well that he wouldn't, couldn't do anything right now and he knew it too. He sneered again wordlessly and spat into the ground in a way I suppose he considered tough. I was just worried he didn't get any of his filth on my worn shoes. With one last nasty look, he stalked away.

"Well," I breathed to myself, rubbing my wrist, "Hope you walk off a cliff."

I was growing tired of being caught off guard by Fire.

* * *

The silence was thicker than anything Spot had ever felt before, but he flexed his arms and coldly stared at the boy standing across from him. The sight of Jack immediately sent anger coursing through his veins. It was all he could do to keep himself from springing across the distance between them and strangling the traitor with his bare hands. Instead, he continued staring at his former friend with a mixture of loathing, disgust, and cool indifference.

Then Jack took a step forward. "Spot," he greeted in a tone that bordered on cautious friendliness, not flinching away from Spot's relentless gaze. The Brooklynite's hands suddenly ached anew to slam themselves into Jack's face. How could he even think of being friendly after what he dared to do? Ace's words seemed to race away from his mind and he allowed the atmosphere to turn even more threatening by remaining quiet. Jack met Spot's eyes neutrally for another moment and then broke contact by looking beyond him.

Good.

"Jack," Spot finally acknowledged, a trace of a sneer entering his voice. He allowed himself to also break eye contact and to glance over the other boy from head to toe. He was dressed in his regular clothes. He must have tossed the scabber ones away. He registered the fact detachedly and then resumed his observing. His hands, Spot noticed. They were stained black with ink.

Spot's own hands were stained with ink, for it came with the job; from handling freshly printed newspapers. But he hadn't sold papes for nearly a week so his hands were only faintly stained. Jack, being a spineless scab, _had _been selling which explained the ink. But…he frowned slightly. It didn't make sense. Printed newspapers didn't stain that badly. Unless Jack had been fooling around with a printing press.

Printing press.

_The paper_, he realized. The one Race and Blink brought. They had said they had printed it with Jack. That meant that at least one part of their story was true.

Spot lifted his eyes from Jack's hands to his face. "You sent Race and Blink."

"Yeah," Jack replied evenly.

"Well," Spot sneered quietly, "You've got some nerve. After what you did."

Jack sidestepped the question admirably. "We need yoah help, Spot. You and da rest of Brooklyn."

Spot's lips curled back. "Dat's what your boys said. Didn't you hear what our answer was?"

Jack's eyes flickered once with fire, but it disappeared quickly. "Sure I did. But if dat's yoah answer, why'd you want to see me?"

Spot exhaled sharply with impatience at the ignorance of the question. "I want," he said tersely, "An explanation."

Again, Jack looked away. He seemed to withdraw from him, though he didn't move. He shifted uncomfortably and to Spot's point of view, it was merely another sign of his guilt. "Spot…look, I know it's hard to accept dis, but da thing is, I can't. I can't explain it to you."

"Can't?" Spot asked disbelievingly.

"Listen, it ain't what it seems!"

"'_Ain't what it seems?'_" Spot quoted again harshly, feeling his last vestiges of control begin to slip. "Well, it seems pretty clear to me, Kelly," he hissed quietly, forcing himself to temper his tone. Jack stiffened and openly glared at him for a split second. Then again, it died away into its previous, neutral, limpid gaze.

It wouldn't do to lose it now. By this time, it had become a sort of twisted game, no rules except the ones they were making along the way. Which one would finally break under the onslaught of words? He knew it would be inevitable; that either one of their carefully constrained tempers would snap, but he would rather die than be the first. He would win.

"Believe me. You've trusted me for years. Do it again, jus' once."

Spot grimly fought for dominance over the fury that suddenly erupted over him at the words. "Trust you?" he snarled, stubbornly refusing the urge to clench his fists. "You want me to trust you? You have any idea how much dat cost me? Do you have _any_ idea?"

Jack sighed and Spot was pleased to see him run his hands through his hair in frustration. "I _do_, Spot. I do. But I didn't have any other choice."

"No?" he snorted derisively, "Let's go over some things den, shall we? One side: dough, dreams, posh clothes, dough…yeah, let's not forget dough. On da other side: Dirt in your face for da rest of your life. Though dere were your friends and your loyalty and da trust you were going to wreck. Hmm. Pretty easy choice, ain't it?"

Jack was definitely glaring now. Getting close, Spot thought triumphantly. "You don't understand, Spot. You don't understand nothin'."

Spot scornfully looked him up and down. "So, what's happened to dem scabber clothes? Not good enough for ya?"

"I'm tellin' you, I was never a scabber!"

""You're a filthy liar, Kelly."

"You have to believe me anyway."

"Why? Give me one good reason and maybe I might."

Jack stared at him helplessly. "Spot. I'm askin' you to join da strike again. We need you and da rest of Brooklyn!"

"_You _need us now, Cowboy?" Spot scoffed. "Hey, ever wonder whether yoah boys needed you when you went off and _stabbed dem in da back_?"

Jack flinched visibly and Spot knew he'd won. Jack pushed his hat from his head so violently that it swayed behind his back and he stepped forward furiously. "Listento me, Spot! Jus' listen for ten seconds! It ain't what it seems!"

"Sure it ain't, 'cos-"

Jack cut him off with a sharp gesture with his hand. Breathing heavily, his eyes burned into the Brooklynite with a fierceness that Spot knew was rare. "He was gonna put all of dem in dere! Da refuge! All of my boys and you…you along with dem. Some of _your_ newsies would have been locked up too."

Spot tensed, feeling a faint nudge of uneasiness twist his gut, but Jack wasn't finished yet. He looked driven, like he was finally up against the wall. "Maybe your boys could have rode it through. Dey've been in da refuge before."

"Kelly…," Spot warned threateningly, feeling another jolt in his stomach.

"But I had Davey. Davey and his little brother Les. Race can't handle bein' locked up. And what 'bout Ace, huh? You wanna see her in dere?"

A sun seemed to explode behind Spot's eyes. His fist whipped out to catch Jack on the jaw. The taller newsie's head snapped to one side and stayed there, leaving Spot to watch a bruise already grow where his punch had landed. Jack clenched his right fist immediately, but otherwise remained deathly frozen. Even his breathing had grown quieter. Then he gradually unclenched his fist and flexed his fingers.

It was an admirable display of skillful control and Spot was glad of it. He'd never had a real blow-out with Jack. Still, he knew who'd win. Jack was a good and strong fighter, but he wasn't too fast even though he landed nice punches. Manhattan style of fighting: predictable and more or less to the basic 'rules' of streetfighting, if there were any.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Jack turned his head back to Spot and glared him. Spot merely looked back, daring him to strike back. Then Jack loosened his bandana around his neck and continued glowering at Spot. "I'm tellin' da truth. Pulitzer told me either work for him and end da strike or he'd put every one of you in da refuge. What would you have done, huh? What would you have done?"

Spot opened his mouth to shoot back an answer, when he realized to his dismay that he actually didn't have one. He couldn't believe it. Jack's question was simple, plain, and to the point. What would he have done if what he was saying was true? He realized with a choking sensation that what Jack was saying was making horrible sense. It was just the thing Old Joe would do. Spot adjusted his hat to hide how unsettled he was.

He had been wrong. All wrong.

Everything was fitting snugly into place. Why Jack couldn't tell his reasons to the rest of the Manhattaners. Because no one would want to know how vulnerable they are. How easily someone in power, someone like Pulitzer, could tear their lives apart with a snap of his finger. It stung, knowing that, and Spot gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.

Jack hadn't been bribed; he had been threatened. And everyone else…they too had thought…Spot glanced at Jack. He should have known.

"You'd have done da same," Jack spat at him venomously, misunderstanding his silence. "You'd have-"

"Heard you've got a thing for Davey's sister."

Jack actually took a full step back. The look on his face was priceless. "I…don't," Jack stumbled with a bewildered expression. Spot raised his eyebrows slightly and tried not to smirk. Kelly always was fun to catch off guard. He felt as though the world had suddenly become brighter and it took some effort to make sure he wasn't grinning like a fool.

"Go back to yoah boys, Cowboy," he told him, swiftly changing the subject again and taking advantage of Jack's startled silence. "We're done here."

Jack was back. The relief was vast.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, authors aren't never really happy with their chapters, but I think this chapter was fairly alright. Lots of Spot's POV, but…oh well. And that Fire threatening bit was actually gonna be used in a previous chapter, so I just dumped it in here. It might seem 'dumped' but oh well. Again, another needed thing.

Btw, the song Ace jokes and says that Race sings? It's a song I researched for one popular in the 1899s and it's actually "Hello! Ma Baby!" but I just can't imagine Ace actually _saying _that to Spot.

"He sings, "Hello! Ma Baby!"

Doesn't that look rather odd? So anyhow, I changed it. Just in case there are any 1899s songs copyrighter maniacs among my readers.

Speaking of readers, there was a certain lack of reviews in the last chapter. Where's everyone gone? I feel abandoned.

Either way, thanks so much to the people who DID review! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	22. Wrapping It Up

**Ace of Hearts**

_By: Racetrack's Goil_

**Author's Note: **This is by far The Longest Chapter I've ever written. Honestly. A whole 25 pages of Ace of Hearts-ness! Isn't that so freaky? I wanted to divide it into chapters again, but there's just no place to split it. But hopefully it'll more than make up for the long wait…

Yes, this is the last chapter. Keep a look-out for the sequel, "The Royal Flush"!

**_Disclaimer:_** Insert witty phrase about not owning Disney characters, fanfiction members' characters, and being the creator of Ace, Fire, Trek, and Philip Danford here.

On with the story!

* * *

"Arsonist sets banker's house on fire!"

"Mayor's daughter seen with lowly worker!"

Jackal and Pithon were naturally 'embellishing' the truth, as we say. They were good; within a matter of minutes, they had already sold some of the newspapers they were holding in their arms. The afternoon crowd was always harder than the morning's, but Jackal and Pithon were manipulating it skillfully. But that wasn't why I was trying to look severely disapproving.

They had decided to start selling on their own, only a few minutes ago, with determined defiance in their faces to whomever in the newsies who might object. No one did. The reason why: because we were no longer on the strike. But the thing was, they didn't have Spot's approval. I felt all squeamish inside, like I ought to say something to stop them, but didn't know what. Had Spot gone to talk with Jack or not? If he had and Jack had provided a good answer, Spot would join again. Wouldn't he?

I felt someone draw near me and I shifted, breaking out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Milkshake, who gave me a smile, albeith a little crooked because of the healing injury running down across her face from the broken bottle at the failed rally. I nodded back and she promptly sat down next to me.

"How's the gash?" I asked, just out of politeness. I hadn't talked to her much, which I felt bad about, because she had been one of the very first to accept me. Then again, she hadn't been around recently because Pike was taking up most of her time. She shrugged in answer

"Stiff," she answered flatly and we didn't speak, just watching Jackal and Pithon. Then she gave an indecisive sigh that made me glance at her. She nudged her chin towards the selling two. "Is it just me or do you feel like the whole world's turned upside down?"

I shifted to hide my surprise at the comment. "What do you mean?"

"Only a couple of days ago, we'd be soakin' anybody doin' what dey're doin'," Milkshake lazily flicked a bug away from her leg. "Now we're da ones doin' it. Ironic, eh?"

I looked back at the two, who were actually managing to earn money. "Why don't you join them, then?"

She rolled one shoulder and then the other. "I dunno. Don't seem right somehow."

I felt a spark of appreciation. That gut feeling was always what all newsies followed and it was why no one else was starting to sell the papes along with Pike, Pithon, and Jackal. Not yet, at least. "Well. Maybe you're right. Maybe it ain't."

Milkshake looked at me curiously, but didn't say anything. I watched Pithon lower the newspaper in her hand and walk towards us. Jackal already had moved from sight. I tipped my hat in greeting and she did the same. Milkshake merely looked up at her and she probably did a better job of hiding her emotions than I did.

"I feel joyful," Pithon declared defiantly.

"Well, that's nice," I offered after a beat. "Joy's good."

"I've missed sellin' papes," she continued airily, "Lost my touch."

I peered up at her from under my hat. I think she was feeling guilty.

"You definitely have lost your touch," Milkshake said bluntly, just when I was about to deny it. Pithon scowled.

"Maybe dem customers are havin' a bad day."

"It's the hair," I said, dead serious. "Too long. Have Jackal cut it for you."

Pithon carelessly glanced at her long blonde hair, which she hadn't bothered tying in a bun. "Maybe. I'll ask Jackal to cut it like a boy's. Dat'll be interesting. Always wanted live like a boy for a year or so."

Yep. She was feeling guilty.

I nodded casually and leaned back on my arms. "You can tell me if Pike really does bark in his sleep."

Milkshake grinned evilly. "Blackmail material."

Pithon gasped audibly with mock horror. "You'll blackmail your own boyfriend?"

"Dear me," I drawled in a most appropriate Spot-fashion, "That's low."

Milkshake shrugged without feeling. "Dat's life, chums. Take all, give nothin'."

Pithon started to laugh, appreciating our humor, then she stopped suddenly. Then her entire face changed into a sort of fiendish delight that rather startled me for a second. "Oh! Wait! Victim coming."

I looked up to see a man in his late forties or so, of medium height, weight, and a face one would dub as average. He was clean-shaven and probably middle-class. Or maybe a servant? Maybe a butler, but he didn't seem as stoic enough. But maybe that's just a misconception. About butlers, I mean. They don't always have to be stoic and boringly blank, do they? I mean, at least when the master of the house isn't around.

But I'm veering dangerously off subject. Pithon was discreetly walking nearer to him and holding out her paper in a typical newsie stance, she proceeded to belt out the headlines with much gusto.

"Mayor's daughter caught lockin' lips with butler!"

Milkshake shook her head in mock disgust and stood up. "Well, I'm not gonna be 'round when Spot finds her. Gotta go before things get ugly." Then her mouth twitched as I gave her a disbelieving look. Milkshake? Going to avoid a blow-out? "Alright, alright. I just wanna go see Pike. Check in on him, you know?"

I smiled. "I know."

At least, I thought I did. Milkshake and Pike were ever so visibly into each other and it was simply, plainly perfect. The two of them had absolutely no misgivings, nothing to regret about each other, and they both had fun-loving, mischievous natures. Something in common, you know?

Spot and I were so different. I mean, there was _nothing _alike between the two of us. Yet we were _together_. And I thought he was amazing. He was gorgeous, had a sharp wit, and a fairly sarcastic sense of humor that I liked. And he said that he thought I was different in a nice way, which had to mean something good. Okay, he adored me, if I was to take his sudden confession on the pier seriously, and I did.

But…I don't know. Sometimes you can't really get him. He still hasn't proven his love, though that sounds like something from a cheap romance novel.

I turned back to Pithon's antics and watched as the man glanced at Pithon, who innocently was facing away from him, still yelling.

"Dalliance in Mayor's house! Forbidden romance! Read all 'bout it!"

"Wow, " I muttered. "She's really taking it far."

The man bought some fruit and then approached Pithon, who put on a face of pure hard-working eagerness. I laughed under my breath. Hard-working eagerness indeed. Pithon winked at us and I could practically see the wheels and cogs turning around in her mind.

"How are ya today, mister?" she said cheerily in a loud enough voice so we could hear. He gave her a slow, strange look and then shook his head slightly, as though dismissing the youths of today as juvenile delinquents. Pithon ignored the look and handed him a newspaper, talking the whole time. "Scoop's terrible big today, sir. Mayor's daughter an' a butler. Tche!"

The man looked a bit offended at the derisive 'Tche!', but Pithon was too good. She had him in a corner. Her newspaper was in front of him, but not so close that it seemed demanding, but close enough to seem tantalizing. "I've never heard that story," he told her.

Pithon didn't miss a beat. "Page fourteen, mister," she answered swiftly. Giving it a page made it seem more real. Then she surprised all of us by saying, "Listen," she opened the newspaper and started reading. The things she said was remarkable. How real she made it seem.

The man pretty soon dug out a penny and gave it to her. She was about to hand over the paper when she was cut off with a stone that seemed to come from nowhere and struck her hat right off her head. Everyone, including the man about to buy the paper, jumped a mile into the air and Pithon made an odd noise. Like a deathly quiet shriek and a sneeze.

Nobody else could shoot with that kind of aim, no one else I knew anyway. I felt something inside leap as I immediately caught sight of a lean, wiry form strolling towards us, a very familiar cane swinging casually in hand. I didn't see a slingshot anywhere, but I knew he had shot the stone. Quick work…Behind him was Jackal, trailing after him with forced nonchalance on his face, which was funny, but he didn't look like he was laughing.

Questions immediately started pouring through my head. Did Spot talk with Jack? Was the whole mess all cleared up? What did Jack say? Were we gonna get back in again?

Meanwhile, Pithon had frozen, almost as if she was trying to figure out what had happened. The man looked absolutely confused and confuddled, and he was looking at suspiciously at Spot. I couldn't help smirking, even though I had to feel sorry for what Pithon had got herself into. Well, it was her and Jackal's fault for acting without Spot's leave. They should have known better, and I really mean that.

Spot smoothly walked right up to the man and Pithon blanched at the sight of him. Spot completely ignored her and snatched the paper away from the Pithon with a kind of briskness that showed her flinch. Then he turned to the man and gave him an eerily, _non_-Spot like smile. "Sorry, _sir_, but you better get your papes somewhere else. Dere's been a little misunderstanding."

"Excuse me, young man?" said the guy, looking indignant now at being ordered around, and actually took the newspaper back from Spot's hands. Did you catch that? He actually _snatched _the pape right from Spot's hands. I exchanged glances with Pithon. Either this guy was intensely dense to not have noticed the way Spot was staring at him, or he was one of the pain-in-the-neck adults…you know, the ones who use their authority over kids like us just because they can.

Pithon shuffled backwards, trying to get away, and only managed to get about a few steps away before Spot stopped her with a Look. Jackal moved away as well, but received no Look so came towards me. His ears were tinged a slight pink, the only visible sign that showed that Spot had probably given him a verbal lashing. His usual carefree grin spread with alarming ease across his face as I moved for him to sit down.

"Watchin' da show, are we?" he said cheekily and I gave him a flat stare.

"You were in it," I pointed out, "But unfortunately, I missed that part."

He in turn rolled his eyes. "Spare me da lecture, Ace; I've already had one from Spot."

I glanced over at the person in question. He was pulling himself up to his full height (which wasn't all that much, I suppose, though he looked fairly tall to _me_), staring full-on at the man, crossing his arms, and looked completely alarming because his lips were pulled back into a lean grin while he glared.

Scary.

The man, on the other hand, looked superior and _peeved_. Have you ever seen a man manage to look _peeved _while looking superior? Well, I haven't. And there was something wrong with grown men looking peeved in the first place. It's almost as bad as seeing them giggle. If he was a horse, his ears would have been flat against the back of his head, which would have been lowered in ready for a kick.

I half-expected Spot to reach out for the paper and for the two of them have an enormous tug-of-war right there in the middle of the street. But no. Of course not. They were much too dignified for _that_. Pity, really, because I would have greatly enjoyed watching it. Jackal next to me started snickering, silently, but you could tell he was snickering because his mouth kept twisting around to keep it all in. It was as though he had read my mind and had seen the very amusing picture of Spot hauling away at the paper.

Well, they weren't hauling away at the paper, unfortunately, but they _were _trying to stare each other down. Spot was winning, I think, simply because he had such a commanding gaze. Then the man ruined it by speaking and rambling, breaking the building tension.

"You see, I paid for it," the man was going on, "I gave the money to the girl. The paper is now officially mine. So I'll have none of that, young man."

Spot eyed him with an absurdly polite smile. "It's da dough you're worried 'bout den…sir?"

I never knew anyone who could make 'sir' sound like 'you **pathetic** moron' the way Spot just did.

"But den again," he sneered without seeming to, all with a fake humbleness that was meant to be so obviously fake, "It's all you kind gentlemen think of, ain't it?"

"Excuse me-," spluttered the poor guy. I have to admit, I was growing rather sorry for him. Came simply to buy a paper with an intriguing headline, which was a lie anyway, then have it taken away by some smooth-talking newsie who had way more persona than he had.

"Don't worry, sir," (there it was again. The s_ir._) Spot smiled, "We'll pay it back. You know. Seein' all da goodness coming right forth from your generous heart. A penny's way too much for da likes of us."

The customer now looked peeved, plainly peeved, without the superiority. "Young man. You are being quite disrespectful."

Spot shook his head. "Aw, dat ain't true, mister. See, watch me carefully, I'm gonna have her give it back."

With that, he turned half-way towards Pithon, who had been standing there numbly until the talk of returning money had started. Having regained her composure after the first fright of nearly having been struck by the stone, she drew back and glared hard at the man. My money, she seemed to be saying. Mine now.

"Pithon? _Darlin'_?" Spot drawled dangerously, smiling at her. She met his eyes and remained defiant only for a second before breaking. She swore loudly and handing over the coin to him. He took it with that same, chilling smile and turning back to the man, who had been waiting. Actually, if you thought about it, the guy was a bit childish to be fighting over a paper. For Spot and the rest of us, it was alright 'cos of the strike. But this guy? Fighting away over a newspaper?

Either way, he took the coin and placed it into his pocket. He handed the paper back complacently enough, and gave Spot a hard glance. "Good-day, then," he looked at Pithon, who was pale. With a touch of concern, despite her previous swearing, "You too, miss."

"Good day to you, sir!" Spot said with enthusiastic friendliness, patting him on the shoulder and steering him around the other way before letting him leave. He waved as the man looked over his shoulder, disapproval stamped on his face. "Pleasure doin' business with you!"

He was acting somewhat like Racetrack, come to think of it. But while Race probably would have acted so the other guy would believe his 'respect,' Spot, on the other hand, made sure the guy could easily tell he wasn't being sincere in the slightest way. It was funny in a very nasty way.

Then Pithon immediately tried to change the subject by laughing, "He called me 'miss'! Haha, ain't dat funny?"

Spot turned to her, slowly, and I could practically see his faked cordiality slip away as he stared at her with barely controlled anger. "Very," he commented stonily and Pithon tried to keep laughing, but trailed off awkwardly into silence.

I watched. This was going to be horrid. Spot was so hard on people who defied his authority, a little too hard. I suppose it was needed, but he could cut Pithon a break. She knew by now she shouldn't have gone off and sold papers while Spot was gone, even if Jackal had supported her. Maybe I could sort of help out…?

I stood up, adjusting my hat. Jackal, startled at my sudden action, looked up at me.

"What do you think you're doing!" he hissed in a fierce whisper. "He ain't gonna go easier on Pithon than he did on me, you know dat. You've never seen Spot get mad at one of his newsies. He goes crazy."

I crossed my arms, thoroughly annoyed. "You know, Jackal, you _were _in the wrong. You might as well admit it. And yes, I so happen to have seen Spot get mad at one of us. Fire. Remember? I watched him break his nose."

Jackal abruptly broke into laughter, dark gypsy eyes twinkling at me. "Hah! Did he? I didn't know _dat_."

I rolled my eyes, but I did laugh a bit. Then he said, "But Ace. I'm trying to be serious here. You don't wanna get into it."

I glanced over at Pithon and Spot. The latter was speaking softly and I had to strain my ears to catch the words. "Another thing's funny," he was murmuring, "A few weeks ago, you know, some newsies went on strike. You hear 'bout dat?"

I sucked in a breath, half-wincing for Pithon, who blanched again. She didn't reply, which was smart of her. I glanced at Jackal. "You think he'd get mad at _me_ for trying to help her out?"

He roughly flicked away a strand of hair that had escaped his short ponytail. "You help people too much, Ace. Sometimes dat can be a bad thing."

"Okay," I didn't get it, but, okay. I returned to my question, answering myself. "But he won't get nasty at me. You know how it is between us."

He looked down and ever so slightly, to my surprise, I saw him stiffen. A dark look entered his eyes, which made me shift and try to ignore what was happening over with Spot and Pithon. "Sure I know," he muttered under his breath, sending a rather horrible glare over at Spot. "Best notch on his cane."

I blinked, confused and not understanding his words at all. I didn't understand that glare either. Jackal may look like a roguish pirate, but he never acted like one (except when it came to beer). In fact, I'd never seen him angry before. Friendly, kiddy pirate, he was. I sat down again, my mind hard at work. I cleared my throat and tried to not look so puzzled and perplexed. "What do you mean?"

He didn't answer.

The conversation, so quickly sprung up, died a very uncomfortable death.

* * *

Spot wasn't all that furious. He wasn't even angry. Maybe annoyed. But the guy who had been fighting with him over the paper had been such an amusement that his temper (which, at first, had been quite bad at hearing what Jackal and Pithon had done) was soothed.

But still, it wouldn't do to just let Pithon go without a severe talking. He admired her, actually. She and Jackal. To actually act without his permission on something like this took some nerve. To them it must have made sense: In their eyes, they were no longer in the strike, from what had happened, and so, the papes were free to start selling. But the problem was, they first should have asked him. Logically, it made sense. But logic didn't work if you had a leader like Spot.

"Didn't you wonder why it was only you and Jackal who started sellin'?"

She shrugged stiffly. "I didn't know. Thought dey was too scared."

"Scared?"

"Of…," Pithon coughed and quickly backtracked, "I guess dey was just used to havin' da strike, I suppose."

Spot made sure he kept his face immobile. "Pithon."

She winced visibly and burst out desperately, "Look, Spot. I thought it was alright! Remember, Jack? I thought we were out!"

Spot bit back a laugh, knowing it wouldn't do. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared at her. "You're missin' da point."

Pithon remained motionless, still believing Spot was white hot mad. "What?"

Spot sighed. "You and Jackal went off and did it without askin' me. You know dat."

"Oh."

"And," Spot continued, "If you had asked, I would have said no."

"Oh," Pithon said again. "Yeah, you would have," she agreed automatically. Then a frown began to grow on her face and Spot could see the major question marks in her eyes. "But…"

She was getting back to her usual Pithon-self, Spot could see that. He narrowed his eyes at her. "No questions, Pithon. You don't deserve an answer after what you and Jackal did. But I'm letting you go easy."

"Sure, Spot," Pithon mumbled and then her eyes widened as Spot started flicking up a coin in the air. He caught it, hiding a smirk at the boggled look on her face.

"Dat dolt of a guy shouldn't have trusted me, eh?" he remarked lightly, "Found a bit of money in his pocket."

"But dat's mine!" Pithon blurted indignantly.

"Is it?"

"It…I..."

'You gave it to me. Doncha remember?"

"But…I…did. I…yeah."

With that, Spot turned on his heel and walked purposefully away, whistling between his teeth. It was past noon and he had just enough time to round everyone up and get to Manhattan. He laughed quietly to himself and actually tipped his hat to a passing lady. Then he instantly spotted Ace, sitting rather forlornly on the edge of the sidewalk. She had her hat off and was absently fanning herself with it in such a typical Ace manner that he smiled. He headed for her, feeling oddly elated. The day was just getting better and better.

* * *

Jackal left me at length, mumbling something about having to see Artemis about something. I didn't answer, because I felt a bit put out. His vague comment about Spot and I made me uneasy.

"Hey. Didn't know you were dere."

I glanced up to see Spot standing over me, the blonde streaks in his hair standing out more because of the sun. "Oh. Hi."

I gave him my hand and he reached down to grasp it. He pulled me up to my feet easily and caught me around my waist. "Ace," he told me, completely ignoring the looks everyone around us was giving, "Darling."

I quirked eyebrow and felt my curiosity grow. "So. What happened?"

He gave me a crooked smile and then looked around. He released me and I took a step back. Almost at the same time, we headed for a nearby opening through the stores and I dodged around the bustle of people on the way. We found ourselves alone and he glanced over his shoulder. He turned back to me, eyes flickering over my face. "Quieter here."

I waved my hat at him. "Okay. So talk."

His lips tugged upwards. "Relax, sweetheart." He took his own hat off, which I took. He raised his eyebrows at that, but wiped his forehead with his sleeve. I mock-frowned at him, but I inwardly had to admit that he looked so _good_, standing right there, so close to me. He was managing to pull off the 'messy-hair' look without even trying.

"Relax, will you?" He repeated when I started bouncing from one foot to the other, impatience and curiosity making me itch for information. "I ain't going nowhere."

"C'mon, what happened?" I persisted, putting on one of the hats in my hand. Then I realized that I was wearing the wrong one. It was much too large, much too worn, and smelled like Spot, a kind of distinct sort of scent that was too complicated to explain. He laughed and flicked it. "Suits you."

I rolled my eyes at the inane conversation and plonked my own hat on his. It was too small, but he looked alright in it. Still, I wasn't about to inflate his already inflated ego. "Doesn't suit you at all," I retorted and received a sharp grin. "Now, tell me. What, for the last time, happened?"

"Nothing much."

I felt my lips tug upwards. "Nothing much?"

"Yep. Jack and I just talked."

"So you _did_ go to see Jack!"

"Don't look so triumphant."

I scoffed. "Thus says he whose face is permanently frozen in a smirk."

He gave a short laugh and stated, "I don't smirk."

Heh.

"Well, and then what did Jack say? Truly?"

"He...," he caught himself and visibly pedaled back. "He had…had his reasons."

I stared. "Why are you stuttering?"

He frowned. "I ain't."

"What reasons?"

"Ace…I can't," he stopped me firmly with a look, "I can't tell ya. Just like Jack couldn't tell us."

"But he told you?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Don't look so angry." Inward laughter made his stormy eyes narrow.

"I'm not," I grumbled, but I couldn't continue feeling put off with him now. He was in such a disarming mood. Then I gave him a sly glance while I leaned towards him. "So, aren't you glad to have gone?"

Unexpectedly, he leaned in nearer instead of drawing back. He was still laughing inside; his lips were slightly pressed together to hold it back. A few strands of hair fell forward when he had leaned in and without thinking, I reached out and brushed them back. He caught my hand on the way back and I reddened, embarrassed at how schoolgirl-ish I was acting. But he has such incredible eyes. You couldn't just sink into them, or drown, because if you sink, you can't truly, really see anything. His eyes weren't like that. You look and something about them can't let you turn away. They draw you in, but then hold you back before you go too far. You can't perceive everything about his personality in his eyes, but that was what was so intriguing about them.

Mystery and charm blended in perfect balance. Just like the gray and the blue.

Spot's too-big-hat fell over my head.

He lifted it back up again, releasing my hand. "Glad to have gone?" he repeated, steering back to the conversation.

"You know," I cleared my throat, "Because I told you."

His eyes narrowed even further. "Stop digging around for compliments."

I smiled, reached up, and tweaked his nose.

He looked so stunned and shocked that I started giggling madly. I found the whole thing funny. Big bad Spot, getting his nose tweaked. Well, I couldn't help it! His nose is so adorable in its turned-up-ness. He almost angrily grabbed my finger upon my second attempt and that made me snicker even more. Doesn't seem funny to you? Well, it was funny then! You know how it is; sometimes things that aren't usually funny seem funny at certain times, but aren't funny later on. (Okay, at least _try_ to figure it out.) I laughed and laughed, dangerously beginning to enter that area where you couldn't stop laughing and everything seems hilarious. Spot looked exasperated and maybe a little embarrassed. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face into his chest, muffling myself that way.

"Ace."

"Hehehehehe…"

"Ace."

"Hahahahahaha…"

"You scarin' me."

I looked up at him and saw him looking slightly uncomfortable. I bet no one ever hugged him like that. Especially when he was unwilling. Well, I didn't care about his stupid authority and whatnot. I grinned. He didn't exactly feel like a nice, fuzzy teddy bear, but he was solid despite his slim form (?), and it was fun watching him trying not to squirm. "You're funny," I told him and grinned again.

He glared down at me, but his lips were twitching. "You better let go of me or I'll show you just how _funny _I can get."

"Oooh," I considered. Then burst into laughter again.

"What now."

"I remembered something."

"Huh?"

"Cows are cute!"

"Cows…oh, Ace, please."

(But he was laughing when he kissed me.)

* * *

As I predicted, the Brooklynites didn't take Spot's news very easily. At first, there was dead silence. It was one of those cliché silences where you could hear a pin drop, a foot scuffle on the floor, and etc. If I had to be in the center of one of those silences, I probably couldn't handle the pressure and end up spouting some lame joke.

Spot, being Spot, slowly narrowed his eyes, with a kind of deadly, dangerous promise in them, already made whoever wanted to defy him. Everyone was caught off guard though, and seemed unable to do or say anything._ I_ merely watched from where I sat in Ray's, where Spot had had them gather.

"If anyone has somethin' to say," Spot broke the silence. He spoke, emotionlessly and lightly, not grinding the words out like I thought he would, "He can say it now and spare us da wait."

"Spot," Artemis asked carefully, "Did somethin' happen?"

Spot turned those narrowed eyes onto him. "I didn't say if you wanted to ask me somethin'. Just if you had somethin' to say." Artemis looked away, but I saw her lips tighten. "But," Spot continued carelessly, "I've talked to Jack."

Murmurs exploded at that, but despite it, Spot said, "And dere's been a…misunderstandin'. Dat's all we need to know."

I suppose it was those little things that made Spot a good leader. If he had said, "Dat's all _you _need to know," instead of _we_, it would have naturally made them feel a little nastier than they were feeling now. Smart, really. After all, being a Brooklyn leader meant total control, and you couldn't do that without a decent amount of intelligence. The power comes after that.

Pike spoke up. "Race and Blink were tellin' da truth den."

He didn't ask a question, just stated it. Spot didn't answer and crossed his arms over his chest. Pike rose from his chair and looked around. I did the same. Some faces looked decidedly rebellious, some unsure and doubting, and some rather blank, as though they didn't know how to react. Spot then glanced at Pike, who met his eyes, then at me. I gave him a wink and mouthed, "Cows."

That made him control a laugh, which I think was good because he was getting a little too tense. A little more and he would have probably grabbed a nearby Brooklynite and used him as an example. But as it was, he uncrossed his arms and raised them to his sides in a sarcastic manner. "Nothin' more to say?"

No one did.

"Den we're goin' now," he ordered, lowering his arms and heading for the door, fully expecting us to follow. It was a show of confidence and it did the trick just right. I went right after him, and soon enough, Pike followed. It was all easy after that; everyone else just went along with the flow. I found myself walking with Artemis and Pithon.

"What happened?"

I shrugged in answer to Artemis' expected question. "I only know as much as you do."

Which is the truth, really. I didn't know why Jack had turned traitor for that one day.

My suspicions are this:

He did it to psyche Pulitzer out. Make him relax his guard and think the strike was over. The rally had been an example of how strong an opponent Pulitzer could be and I think Jack realized that. So, he pretended to have a change of heart, to betray us, and then suddenly whip around and get him in this second rally we were going to now.

Make sense, doesn't it?

It does, you know.

I think.

Okay, maybe not.

"Spot took my money, you know," Pithon was complaining, but quietly. I glanced at her in surprise and she rolled her eyes expressively. "You know dat penny he made me give back to dat guy?"

"Yeah?" I remembered.

"He had it da whole wretched time," she glowered. I shrugged and Artemis rolled her eyes. Pithon ignored our difference and continued heatedly, "An' I _handed _to him."

"Dat's hard to do, though," Artemis remarked. "I wonder how he pulled it off."

"You're admiring him," Pithon was flabbergasted.

"Well, yeah," Artemis said unsympathetically. "When did he slip it from him?"

Pithon raged. "You…you…you remind me of da coin itself!"

Puzzlement crossed Artemis' face. "Coin?"

"Yeah," she seemed very proud of herself now. "Not explaining."

"It's because a coin's double-faced," I offered and received a glare from Pithon. Smirking, I said to Artemis, who had a smile struggling to surface. "Get it now?"

Pithon pursed her lips in mock annoyance. "You've spoiled it all now. An' what're you doin' wearing his hat anyhow?"

"Who's?"

"Spot's."

"Oh. I forgot."

Anyway, she cooled down after a while, which I had expected. She was like that, which I have to admit I admired. I didn't _envy_ it, but I did admire it. She was flexible enough to quickly move on without staying angry. I always stay angry, which, I suppose, was part of the many reasons why Spot and I didn't get together sooner. I looked away and suddenly felt the urge to laugh. Well. I've finally found something common between Spot and I…we both hold definite grudges.

Comforting. I turned my attention back to the conversation, keeping up with their longer strides.

"Dere's never been anyone I couldn't lift from," Artemis was boasting, "Not a single one."

I gave her an unsure glance. "That just can't be true."

"You doubtin' me?"

Pithon rolled her eyes. "I can already count off two you couldn't steal a hair from," she lifted her hand and raised two fingers. "One: Spot," she put one finger down, "Two: Duke."

My interest was sparked immediately and my ears pricked up. "Duke?"

"Oh yeah," Pithon was obviously paying her back, "It was hilarious."

Artemis was silent. "Well," she mused, "It was jus' bad timin'."

"What happened?"

"She tried for one of his knives."

"Jus' for fun," Artemis explained. I pulled my hair back idly and listened.

"He had dem wrist sheath thingies. So she shook hands with him and tried to see if she could slip one blade off. "

Artemis snorted. "I could have done it, if-"

"I was dere," Pithon continued gleefully, "It was scary, he-"

It was Artemis' turn to cut her off. "He's a nutcase. Completely crazy. He just grabbed my hand and gave me one of da freakiest look I've ever seen. Worse dan Spot's, I'm tellin' da truth."

Pithon waved her hand animatedly but didn't say anything. Artemis rubbed her hand, as though remembering, and said, "Anyway, he grabbed my hand, told me if he tried it again, he'd chop it off, and da whole time he was smilin' dis cold sorta smile. An' he wasn't jokin'," she shrugged, "His ugly mug didn't help either."

Pithon's brows furrowed. "He wasn't exactly _ugly_…"

"He was! Ugly as a bat!"

"You mean you gotta be _blind _as a bat to think he's ugly. He was rather good-lookin'."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"His nose was _deformed_!"

"His eyes were gorgeous."

"He's a traitor. Even if he was 'gorgeous'."

"Well, yeah," Pithon admitted, "What he did was terrible."

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand. "What really happened, truly? I really don't know anything about Duke, just how he started tryin' to turn you all against Spot…right?"

"Well," Artemis replied, "I'm not sure how it all started."

"Spot and he were really close," Pithon said. "Same personalities, actually. So it really hit da guy hard."

"Who, Spot?"

"Yah. Which is why," she added, lowering her tone and rolling her eyes, "We're all tryin' to figure out why he's going off to help Jack now, considering Cowboy's done exactly what Duke did," she paused and made a face, "Ptuey."

"Anyway," Artemis took it up, "I think Duke didn't like how Spot had more authority dan he did. Or maybe he was just power-hungry. Or maybe he was just dim in da head. _I _dunno."

"Nah," Pithon pointed out, "He wasn't dim. He was smart."

"Well, okay," I said hastily, before they started arguing again, "He's one of those people who stir conflicting opinions. Mixed up guy person. So, and?"

"Spot had another girl back den."

Instant, insane jealousy. "Oh."

"So Duke sorta stole her, but she was a dope anyhow."

"And Spot couldn't really do anythin' about it because Duke made sure everyone except Spot knew it was him. Like I said. Smart. An' da girl just him. Forgot her name. I hated her anyhow. Always thought she was better dan us."

I was speechless. "Oh," I said again. "Wow."

"Yeah…anyway, I think Spot sorta suspected it was Duke…but you know, he can't act on anythin' without proof because he's leader. Dat's how it started, I think."

"You all said nor did nothing?"

"Ahm…we really couldn't. To tell Spot dat his best friend was turnin' against him? You know how hard dat is to say?" she shook her head, "And anyway, we still thought Duke didn't really mean it."

"Den he got Fire to start makin' trouble. Little things started happenin', like threatening letters, shards of glass in Spot's shoes-"

I started. "He did the same thing to me. Fire, I mean. The glass shards."

"Really?" Artemis looked truly surprised. "You didn't say anythin'."

I stirred uncomfortably, wishing I hadn't spoken. "I didn't want to."

"Well, I wouldn't put it past him to try da same trick again. Anyway, things started gradually boiling up da point Spot and Duke were at each others throats. Brooklyn was at its worst den. Had trouble with Queens on top of it all."

"So Duke challenged Spot into a fight to finish it all. He was planning it da whole time, I think. We had it on Brooklyn Bridge, with all of us watchin'. Whoever was still standin' was to either continue or become leader of us. Half of us were rootin' for Spot, da other half for Duke."

"Dat other half got thrown out," added Artemis with a smirk. "I think dey went to another borough."

"I suppose it was vicious?" I asked, "The fight, I mean?"

"Oh yeah…brutal. Dey were both good, you know, and had da same speed. But Duke was more of a knife fighter, so he sorta bent da rules by pulling one out…no wait. Was it Spot who took it off him first?"

"I forgot," Pithon admitted sheepishly.

"Dey both bent da rules, anyhow, and in da end, Spot managed to get a blade in Duke. Pretty bloody," Artemis grimaced. "But I'm glad he won. Duke was too much of a backstabber."

I whistled. "Intense," I remarked.

"Yeah," Pithon rubbed her eyes and sighed, "An' he's back, right?"

"Duke? Yeah," Artemis scowled fiercely, "Up to no good, I bet. But for now he's stayin' low."

I shifted uneasily and Pithon looked sideways at me. "He'll probably try to slither in. You know, not like, 'Haha, I've returned!', but sorta do something nasty from da back."

Her flippancy made me laugh a little, but we were rather silent the whole way to Manhattan. Pithon eventually left us to chatter on with Sodapop, who was in front of us. Artemis went to Jackal, voluntarily, so I suppose whatever they were fighting over had been resolved. I ended up walking alone, so I had plenty of time to mull over the information I digested.

Duke. I chewed on my lip and frowned. I hadn't really considered him at all, because he was merely a name, a figure in Brooklyn's past. He had simply sounded nasty and I had only vaguely acknowledged him as another one of Spot's enemies. Now he had a personality, a story, and I didn't like either. I realized I should have asked the others about him earlier.

Spot had never mentioned him and that made him more important than I thought. But then again, if he hadn't mentioned him, that meant he didn't want to me to rummage around there too much. I thought it over once more and decided to just wait and see. Duke was sure to pose as a real threat sooner or later and I simply had to watch out. I sighed. Now who would have thought being a newsie was so _socially _complicated?

We crossed Brooklyn Bridge at a leisurely, yet fast pace. I moved easily along because I was now used to the route. We reached Manhattan minutes later and weaved our way towards the square. It was then when I found myself in for a real shock.

As we walked, we found ourselves being trailed from behind by a few people. I turned and stared at them suspiciously. They were children, no older than we were, but all had rather grim faces. Shrugging, I turned back around. When I looked back again, I saw that the 'few people' had grown into quite a group of workers and I caught sight of some adults. We all gave each other strange looks, because it was a bit unnerving, but Spot did nothing to stop them. The people walking with us grew with every street we passed through and the next thing we knew, we were right in the middle of a huge crowd.

A slow, huge grin split my face into two. Jack's paper. The strike. It was working.

I'm not really sure what happened next. It was all a big, blurry, blur of impressions, excitement, and adrenaline. I think we were all caught up in the moment. Well, at least I was. I completely lost sight of Spot and I found myself stuck in the crowd, which had grown even more huge, and we were in front of a house someone shouted at me (Pike?) was Pulitzer's. I vaguely was aware of Jack going in with who I thought was David, the curly-haired one Spot didn't like. It was even better than the rally we had at Medda's place. Much better, because it wasn't simply newsies. There were adults, there were factory children, and also…I'm not sure…but…

_Theodore Roosevelt._

Are you shocked?

Because I was.

I think it was Race who told me, but like I said, there was too much confusion. Well, whoever it was, I didn't believe him, until I caught of a glimpse of the guy myself, surrounded by admirers, and I promptly went mad. Teddy Roosevelt was _here _at _our _rally! Just that made it certain that the strike was ending, today, and it was going to end in our favor. I rose onto my toes and tried my best to look over the people in front of me.

Suddenly, there was an explosive cheer that nearly flattened me to the ground. Confused, I looked around and saw equally confused faces on Milkshake and Artemis' faces. Then, from what seemed a long distance, I saw Skittery. He was laughing (wow) and met my eyes before smiling a rare smile. He raised his hands and gave me a thumbs up. It was only then when I realized that we had succeeded. It was all over. The strike was over. I grinned back and cheered along, feeling an inexpressible emotion of delight.

I suppose this is a good place to stop my first half of my narrative and start anew, but I can't end it like this because something happened right then. I started threading my way through the crowd, looking for Spot. I was pretty much way back in the crowd, see, and had quite a way to get to the front. I was half-way through but there was one person with his back towards me who just wouldn't budge.

Annoyed, I tried to squeeze past him, but he was too tall and didn't seem to notice me. "Excuse me," I said, but he didn't seem to hear me. "Sorry, can you…"

"Um…can you please…"

No response. Very annoyed now, I took a deep breath and pushed with all my strength. "_Look, can you just move!_"

The guy whipped around so quickly that I stumbled back at the movement. When I saw who it was, my jaw dropped and I stared. "You again!"

Philip looked truly angry, I suppose he didn't like people pushing him. But the furious look on his face disappeared and was taken over by a surprised look, which I was sure mirrored the one on my face. "Ace," he laughed a little, "Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you."

I blinked and then nodded. "Why are we meeting like this?"

"What?"

"I said, 'Why are we meeting like this?'"

He cocked his head, shook his head, took my arm, and started taking me somewhere. He somehow managed to navigate me through the crowd. I noticed with some jealousy that everyone quickly parted for him. It was rather unfair. On the way, I glanced around to see whether I could see Spot. Nope. In fact, I couldn't see any Brooklynites.

Within some time, we were out of the crowd and in an alley, similar to the one I had been in just this afternoon, talking with Spot. Philip smiled and leaned back against the wall. "So. What were you saying?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I was just commenting how weird it is that we keep meeting up with each other."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe you're seeking me out."

I laughed, rather rudely. "No way." Then I remembered something. "You here with the rest of Queens?'

He looked startled. "Excuse me?"

I felt smug. "I know who you are."

His thin, black eyebrows rose skeptically and he crossed his arms. "I wonder."

"You're Queen's leader," I told him. "I've asked around."

He looked immensely amused. "That curious about me? Well, then you've found me out."

"So you _are _leader of Queens?"

"Yes."

"How come you said you're from the slums?"

"Because I didn't want you to know. Some people are very touchy about other newsies entering their borough."

I grinned. "Not me," I then asked, "Are you glad the strike is over?"

"In a sense. But I'm not sure it's over."

"What do you mean?"

He looked over to the crowd and I did the same. They were separating into groups now. "Boroughs come together for these kinds of things and then they split back up again. That's when suspicions start like wildfire. Had everyone been loyal? Who had not and been a sell-out? Why didn't this or that borough do this or that? Then, of course," he said, "There's that problem about Kelly. I wonder how Manhattan will take it, now that the strike isn't crucial anymore."

There was a pause between us and I felt a frown tug at my mouth. "Are you just being cynical or are you feeling bitter about something?"

He shook his head. "Perhaps both. But wait and see, Ace. You'll understand what I mean."

I bit the inside of my lip. "You're not very pleasant today."

He looked at me. "Am I at other times?"

"Yes," I told him honestly, "You are. You're actually very, very nice. I'm eternally indebted to you about the meatpie and Fire."

He broke into a laugh. "What happened to him, by the way?"

"He got kicked out."

"By Spot, I suppose?"

There was no trace of odd anger in his face when he said that and I was relieved. "Yes," I told him. "By Spot. He was being horrid again."

"At least you've done with him now," he told me kindly, and then asked, "Are you thirsty?"

"Just a little. Why?"

"Do you want to get a cup of coffee or something?"

"Oh," I was pleasantly surprised and opened my mouth to accept his offer, when I remembered Spot. I wanted to see him, see his reaction, and see how he was taking it. Going off with Philip just wouldn't do. "Um, sorry," I said uncomfortably, hoping he wouldn't be too disappointed. Anyway, shouldn't he be getting back to the rest of his newsies? "I can't. I have to go. Sorry," I repeated.

He was gracious enough to not insist and he just nodded. "It's alright. Some other time then."

"I'll see you then."

He slipped into the cheering crowd and then, before long, slipped out again, a group of newsies following him. Queens. I watched him go and decided once again that he really was a truly interesting character. I was suspicious, but I have to admit I liked him, oddly enough. Maybe someday I'll ask him what he was up to. But not as yet. I didn't know him well enough.

I went back to my original job of looking for Spot. I couldn't find him anywhere and for a second, I was worried he went back already. But that didn't make sense, because I eventually found myself back with the Brooklynites. The crowd was splitting again and it was much quieter. I asked Artemis if she had seen Spot, but she told me she hadn't.

I moved on and looked around again, trying to find that familiar blonde-streaked head. Then, finally, I caught sight of him. He was making his way towards me, and, like Philip, was easily picking his way through. He looked rather tired, but had a triumphant look on his face. His eyes lightened up when he saw me. Grinning, I waved my hat. Well, _his _hat.

Before long, he caught up to me and gave me one of his special smiles. "Well, Ace, I think we've done it."

"I know," I told him. "The strike pulled through."

We exchanged hats and he told me, "Fast, isn't it? How it ended?"

"Yeah. I had no idea what was going on."

"Jack and David-,"

"The walking mouth?"

"Yeah, da walkin' mouth. Dey went into Pulitzer's place."

"I know that part," I said, "But I don't know what happened, really."

"Dey talked to Pulitzer and I think all da people outside rallying hit him real hard. He agreed to Cowboy's terms. An' Teddy's taken care of some things about da refuge…"

"No, really?"

"Yeah," he took my hand and kissed it. "You know most of dese things wouldn't have happened without you. Really owe you a lot."

"Am I going deaf or just mad? Is the famed Spot Conlon actually admitting that he needs me?"

He smirked. "Don't get too excited, Ace."

"So you predicted it all?" I asked curiously, "All this? That there'll be a crowd from what Jack had written?"

"Not exactly," he replied, rolling up his sleeves from the heat and unbuttoning one button from his collar, "But I was bettin' on it. We were all bettin' on it."

I nodded. "It was a good bet."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm dead tired, Ace. Just 'bout beat."

"You have my sympathy. Let's get back to Brooklyn."

"I think I might ask Teddy for a ride back."

I stared, shocked all over again. "You're jokin'."

He raised his shoulders in a shrug and smirked again. "Who says I can't get a ride back?"

"But…but…he's Roosevelt!"

"Do you want a ride with me?"

I was astounded. "Are you actually being serious?"

"Sure I am. C'mon."

He took my hand and before I knew it, Spot was taking me towards a group surrounding Theodore Roosevelt. I tried to pull my hand out from his grasp, but he merely tucked it under his arm and drew me closer. "Spot!" I said desperately, "Don't you dare-"

"Limp."

"_What!_"

"Limp. Now."

Numb, I did what he told me to. Then we were right there, in front of the man himself.

"Hello, Mr. Roosevelt," Spot said smoothly, ever so suave.

He was a rather portly man, just like I knew him to be, and to a casual observer, I suppose he might have looked a little scary because of his beard and sturdiness. But he was beaming all over, and his eyes were sparkling and twinkling. He reminded me of a cheerful uncle/grandfather sort of person, but I was too nervous to smile back. Instead, I just gaped at him, while Spot brimmed with confidence.

"I don't think we've met," said Mr. Roosevelt and I hoped Spot would let go of my hand to shake his. But instead, he held out his other hand.

"I'm Spot Conlon, sir, and dis is Ashley Bennette."

He is so dead.

"Nice to meet you both," he said kindly and I managed a weak grin. Surely Spot really didn't mean that thing about asking a ride back home. Surely he wasn't _that _impudent or idiotic. Surely-

"I was wonderin', Mr. Roosevelt," he drawled, wrapping an arm around my waist, "Could you do us a favor?"

Oh no. It was prison. Prison or refuge, either one, for the both of us.

"If it is within my power to do so, young man," answered the man, his eyes laughing quietly at my panicked look. Spot ignored me and put on a sad sort of look.

"Ashley's got a twisted ankle, see. Just twisted it right now. Took a hard fall. I don't think she can make it, see, and I was wonderin', you've got a splendid carriage, and see, we were wonderin'…" he trailed off masterfully.

"Do you want a ride back home?"

"Is it alright, sir?"

"Naturally, naturally! Anythin' for you hard workers of New York."

Spot looked at me and smiled before turning back to Roosevelt. "We're evah so relieved, sir."

"No problem, no problem at all," said Mr. Roosevelt. Either he was genuinely kind or very, very gullible. I suspected it was the former though. "Come on, let's get you two home."

He led the way and I glared at Spot. "You lied," I hissed furiously, "An' you made me lie!"

"Darlin', admit it. You're happy."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so what? What if he finds out? Suppose he throws us into prison?"

"Not happenin'. You're such a marvelous limper. Didn't you see his eyes well up?"

"Very funny…"

We climbed into the carriage and I remembered just in time to feign pain. The crowd parted and I have to admit, it was glorious. For a few seconds, I felt what the rich must feel. Hearing them cheer just for you, hearing them watch you in awe. Spot took it all in a stride, leaning back in the carriage with a casual smirk, but I think I was as red as beet. The whole way back, Spot conversed with Mr. Roosevelt, as easily as if it had been one of his customers he was swindling money out of.

We reached Brooklyn and Mr. Roosevelt dropped us off at the Lodging House, sprained ankle and all. It was terrible, really, lying to him like that, but I think he saw through it. Spot waved cheerfully as they went off and then smiled widely at me.

"Are you in much pain, darlin'?"

"Terrible," I said in a deadpan voice, but I couldn't stay upset when he was looking at me like _that_, "I could fall unconscious right now."

"I'll catch you. Hopefully you ain't so heavy."

"Hey, no insults allowed," I told him, my lips twitching, "You'll ruin the moment."

"What moment?"

"You know, the moment where you're supposed to sweep me off my feet and give me a staggering kiss."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is dat an order?"

"I'm not _that _demanding. It's a request."

And so he complied.

_(to be continued…)_

* * *

**Author's Note:** And that's the end of "Ace of Hearts"! I know it's a soppy ending, but ah well. I had it in mind to end it rather nastily, in a cliffhanger, but I changed my mind. Hope you enjoyed it and don't forget to drop a comment!

Also, there are some characters I had in the beginning of the character that I'm going to take off because they were in the CC and really have no purpose anymore because the 'owners' of the characters are no longer reading. So the ones I'll be keeping are:

Artemis

Jackal

Sodapop

Pithon

Pike

Milkshake

Pilot

If I've forgotten anyone, please tell me and I'll be sure to keep them. I'll probably be re-writing some chapters too, so after a while check back sometime.

Here's a huge, huge **_THANKS_** to all who've reviewed and read. Your support's really helped me on and I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! The next big project would be "Paradox" and "The Royal Flush", so I hope you'll check up on both!


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